Competition (Revised)
by ShizzySavage16
Summary: (Revised - 4/14/20) Jeremy thought that he could get away with his rob-n-run's that he did on a nightly basis, but an unexpected encounter with a girl that could blink through time proved him wrong... of course, they'd be paired up for a string of missions together, having to deal with each other's company... how will it turn out?
1. Intro

**This is the final time I'm re-Editing this story. Enjoy.**

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

A cloudy night in London.

The bright rays of the moon were obscured by the grey in the sky. The streets of London were dimly lit with the light sources that hung over the streets.

It was a quiet night. Not many sounds were heard around the streets... other than the humming engines of the various floating cars that roamed the freeways, and groups of kids that should have been going to sleep, but instead, preferred causing a ruckus on the sidewalks. But, other than bad parenting, not much went on during a silent night... but silence wasn't permanent...

 _Silence was considered 'good' in London, and good things always came to an end..._

A man donning a red hoodie and black sweats discreetly made his way to the entrance of a 24 Hour convenience store. His hands were wrapped with bandages, where dried blood stains accompanied the surface of it. He wore his socks higher than the average person, just midway to his kneecap. There was a reason for that. It helped his blood flow to the legs, and his legs were a very important part of his arsenal.

On his back was a dark duffel bag, which was loaded with items that would never make it past impeccable Omnic security. He wore a hoodie with a black cap underneath, giving his face a shadowed look under the already-dark night.

 _'No face, no case.'_ As the saying goes.

The light of the convenience store brightened as he walked up to it. The lights revealed some features of his face; blue eyes, sharply coloured and light... _and an equally sharp smirk as he reached for his gun._

 _This was routine for him._

He kicked the door open, aiming the gun towards the clerk. His eyes shot to the clerk's hands, which was reaching for _something..._ he didn't even need to see what he was reaching for to know what it was.

Again, this was routine for him, and he'd be damned if he let a clerk pull a quick one in front of him.

"Touch that gun over there, and see what happens, pal." He threatened. He cocked his pistol, the _clack_ sound signifying that it was ready to fire at any time.

 _"I dare you."_

The clerk slowly retracted his hand back and held up his arms in surrender.

"Smart guy." He walked up closer to the clerk, "Now gimme everything you got in there, and I'll be on my way." He gestured at the cash register with the barrel of his pistol, _"And I ain't in the mood to be joking around with ya, so get ya fingers working."_

While keeping the gun pointed at the clerk, he unstrapped his duffel bag and threw it on the counter, unzipping it and pointing his finger inside.

 _" Money._ Now. Hurry it up, will ya?"

The nonchalant clerk opened the cash register, and pulled out the pounds.

"You're not getting away with this, you know that? This is all on surveillance, buddy, and you don't even have a mask to protect your face." He scoffed and shook his head, keeping his posture fairly relaxed.

The criminal however, knew that he would still get away without a scratch. He also knew that the police force of this city were facing problems that were beyond them at the moment, so it was a good chance that they wouldn't even have the resources or the time to dedicate to such a minuscule offence.

"The camera ain't even facing my way, _buddy."_ He shot back, _"Hurry up."_ He said, his patience running thin.

The clerk stuffed bill over bill inside the duffel bag. Some of the space was taken up by the other gear that the robber had brought with him; An aluminum bat, and a deadly looking shotgun that had 'Modified' written all over it.

Once the duffel bag had all of the store's money, the owner went to close it, all while keeping the gun pointed towards the clerk's direction.

The clerk spoke up, "Can't live like this forever, you know?"

"Hm... watch me." The criminal growled out, daring the man to open his mouth once again.

 _"You don't get it, do you?_ You're just gonna end up as fresh _meat_ for the slums! You'll end up getting shanked inbetween the ribs, choking in a pool of your own rubbish, or you might even get fucking _wanked!"_

The last part of the sentence triggered something inside the criminal. He would have to be _dead_ if he were to allow himself to get violated by another one of the same gender. _He wasn't a fruit, and he despised people that made the **fatal** mistake of assuming he was one._

The clerk continued to talk.

"The jail's gonna love you, I tell ya. You're gonna get tossed around, and shagged by men that are twice your size, you _scrawny_ looking boy! They'll have a field day with your-"

The clerk's voice was quickly cut off by the sound of a bullet being fired. The mushy sound of flesh and bone being penetrated was heard right after, and the thud of a lifeless body was the last thing the criminal heard before running away.

He kept his pistol hung to his side as he kicked the door open, sprinting like hell into the dim streets of London - _Heart pounding and head throbbing at the natural adrenaline that was put into him on the daily..._

 _This was routine for him._


	2. Jeremy

**_Chapter 1: Jeremy_**

Meet Jeremy Jeune Jones... or, _Jeremy,_ for short. Not your average person when it came to running on two legs _(or just running in general)_ , but fairly average when his story is compared to the many people who have fallen victim to the wrong 'turn' in life...

He was full of ego. He was rude, cocky, brash... _but really smart._

 _... well, only recently smart._

He wasn't smart his whole life. In fact, he was categorized with the teenage youth that were viewed as undesirable delinquents - _Nothing but trouble_ in other words. But, weirdly enough, he wasn't that much of a troublemaker in the past. He knew the differences between good and bad when it was in front of him, and despite how reckless his character was, he managed to develop the _brains_ that were needed to survive while undertaking this dangerous life he had chose.

He had the _looks_ of someone that seemed nice, and respectable enough for his age; hair parted and casually groomed, shirt tucked in and a polite smile, but with his _questionable_ personality, his character was quick to become despised by the average person.

His description wouldn't be complete without mention of his unusual talent... and his other 'normal' talents, all of which were acquired during his teen years.

Jeremy knew how to fight. He was a scrappy kid during his upbringing, and being raised with many older brothers only helped to refined that talent into pure skill. The other unique, albeit, _uncommon_ talent he had (for his age at least), was that he knew how to shoot and handle a gun as if it was second nature for him.

The influence of his older brothers reflected in him a lot. He wouldn't have had experience handling a firearm otherwise.

That was Jeremy's resume so far - a teenager that had the 'scrappy' experience of hand to hand combat, and the intelligence of handling a firearm — the 2 basic principles that were needed for the life he lived. He was already impressive at an early age... but that wasn't all.

He was also a fast runner... and by _fast,_ he was nearly 20 _Miles Per Hour_ fast. _**Very**_ above average in terms of normal human speed.

There was a time when all these traits of his weren't used for crimes against society or the harm of _'Hit-targets'..._ there was a time when he was... _a good kid with a 'bright future' as unbelievable as it sounded when taking an evaluation of his recent acts..._

... but what changed him?

What caused such a drastic change of scenery in his view of the world?

 ** _... Jeremy had a rough upbringing all his life._**

 _But it all started to come crashing down at the age of 17..._

 _ **x**_

A young Jeremy was forced to move from his hometown of Boston to London, at the hopeful age of 17. It was a no-brainer move for her. The area was safer. Work opportunities were plentiful, and **the area was safer**.

... It was a decision that was long overdue though, because the same streets she was desperate to move away from took almost everything she cared about away from her.

8 children in total. 6 of them dead. 1 of them disappeared without a trace. She blamed their deaths on the ghettos. She blamed the disappearance on the ghettos.

Only 1 remained, and that was Jeremy.

She didn't want her last child to be taken away from her. She already suffered enough, and the fact that she endured all of this alone, with no husband to share the pain with...

... Jeremy never had a father. He only had his mother, and his 7 other brothers. The recurring theme of abandonment and sadness mentally toughened him... _but was it for the better, or for the worse?_

It was him and his Mom against the whole world when they finally got out of Boston.

She saved up enough money to take a flight to London, which was _booming_ with work opportunities for the struggling family. She took advantage of it, and was lucky enough to land herself a job, eventually managing to pay for rent with a comfortable, low-salary budget.

And though the place wasn't ideal, it was shelter, and Jeremy was thankful for it.

Life was going well for him and his mom. School was somewhat enjoyable, work was tolerable... but it all changed in one day.

Jeremy found out that she was diagnosed with cancer. 

It was the nightmare of every kid that loved their Mom. A sudden reveal of unavoidable death that forced them to put extra attention to the precious remaining days of their life...

She approached him with the news... and he was _devastated_.

He felt like his whole world was beginning to _shatter_ when she confessed, tearing down the strong optimism for his future plans that he had seen himself doing for his mother and himself.

 _His joyous youth was beginning to crumble on that very day. It began to change him._

 ** _x_**

A month passed since she has been diagnosed with cancer, and it only got worse for her.

Violent fits of coughing were a regular, and the occasional wheeze and the exasperated gasps were heard _everywhere_ around the household.

He told her... **told her** _that she should've stopped smoking... to stop doing it to herself..._ _he told her_ , _but she didn't listen..._

Jeremy knew better, and he knew _something_ had to be done about her self-harm, so he hid her last pack of cigarettes on a quiet day, in the furthest corner of the small closet they had. She came home to find her pack of cigarettes missing from it's usual place on the nightstand, and despite knowing she had only a limited amount of time to live, she still continued to work — just for Jeremy.

Everything of value suddenly became irrelevant to her - except the one ray of hope in her darkening world - and that was her last remaining child. 

Unsurprisingly, she threw a tantrum when she found out the cigarettes were gone, and after some tense minutes of intense rummaging in the apartment, she found the pack in the corner of the closet, _knowing_ Jeremy had hid it.

She feebly attempted to hit him... some of her hits landing, some of them not. In his mind, he was doing what he thought was right for the woman he loved with all his heart...

 _He didn't want to see her go. She was the anchor of his life, he didn't know what he'd do without her by his side, so he couldn't take any chances..._

He let her hit him as she spat countless insults at him. He did not say a word back, and did not attempt to strike back. His loyalty towards his mom was strong, and there wasn't anything that could break it.

But ever since that day — the relationship between them had grown sour, which only worsened the effects of his mom's once-sweet personality...

His performance in school wasn't _sweet_ either.

 _He began plundering when it came to school._

His below average grades started to drop more, as he earned debilitating remarks from his teachers. He also began participating in regular skirmishes with other students that looked at him the wrong way. He also got kicked off the baseball team for his recent lack of goodbehaviour, and this was a surprise because he was arguably the team's best player. He was also called down to the principal's office a plethora amount of times — _only_ _for him to get notified that he would be serving suspension after suspension for the trouble that he was causing for other students and teachers alike..._

He was dangerously close to being expelled, and this was when the school decided to involve his mother — _for the seventh time in less than two months._

He had a small circle of friends he stayed close with. But like most things in his life, they all started to fade away from him. His personality was in all sorts of _whack._

Jeremy blamed their slow drift-off on his Mom's situation — _it was ruining him, slowly, but surely._

 _He was falling apart._

One day, Jeremy left school grounds during one of his classes that he had no intentions of going to, and decided to walk home from there, as much as his Mom would dislike it.

School was a 20 minute walk from where he lived, and the route he had to use made him walk the less preferable routes of London, places where crime was more rampant on happening, and more common than the richer counterparts of the area.

 _His surroundings didn't help his life turn for the better._

 _ **The things he saw, and the things he just had to learn to stay alive quickened his maturity into the real world...**_

Jeremy first grew wary of the route, learning to watch his back at _all_ times when a thief stole his only bar of granola — _right from his hands._

He chased after the thief and caught up to him with ease, his above average speed during his time as a 17 year old _excelled_ the speed of many other students in the nation. He was _special_.

He caught the thief and was intent on rocking every living _bone_ in his body, but he soon backed off as a group of shady individuals turned a corner.

They wielded weapons that his Mom told him to stay away from, _never to hold, and **never** to use..._

He learned an important lesson at that moment...

 _Only pick fights you can win_.

 _One of the many lessons he learned for his survival._

Once he was in the clear of the individuals that were most likely criminals, he resumed walking his normal route. But a nagging thought played in his mind, suddenly growing wary of what his mom might do to him if she found out about his recent suspension...

 _She was going to find out about the suspension, no doubt,_ considering she was mostly home during his school hours.

He walked up to the door, only for his Mom to physically discipline him, beginning the experience by pulling him inside by his collar.

Jeremy was old enough to withstand the hits of his Mother... but _never,_ her scorning words.

Hearing her call him a 'disappointment' and a 'waste of a son' was debilitating to him, and no matter how tough he would pretend he was, _his mother's words always got to him..._

The whole ordeal ended up with him leaving the apartment, much to his Mom's dismay — _as she was the one that caused him to leave in the first place._

His mom yelled... _Pleaded_ , for him to come back. He ignored her and continued to run outside the apartment, running as far as his legs could take him, _anywhere_ but that place.

Jeremy didn't know what to do once he was out of hearing distance from his mother. He was a fantastic free runner, as he remembered jumping and running across the many crumbling structures of South Boston with some ease. He did this with his rebellious older brothers during his risk-taking youth.

His mother, Knowing that her youngest son was being influenced into a life she didn't want him to go in, it gave her more grey hair than she could count, and even _more_ stress to go through in her feeble life.

Since then, she had only been more _feebler_ and weaker to the ways of life. She always knew that if her youngest son continued his ways, he would end up _just like her older sons..._

 _He'd end up as a criminal._

It was close to 12 in the afternoon when he left the house.

His free run lead him to an abandoned construction site, and onto a slab of concrete, which was on the highest point of the cancelled project. He could vault walls and find alternative routes at the speed of a maestro — _he was a natural at being so damn mobile._

His talents rewarded him with a beautiful view of... _The shitty Southie..._

And though it was London he was in, he _couldn't_ get the thought of South Boston out of his head whenever he looked at the city from a bird's eye view.

Grimy, dirty, industrial, crowded... _dark..._

South Boston was his home, and it would always be. Though it was beaten up, tarnished and well beyond maintenance — _it was home._

He was a direct product of what it created.

 ** _An honest criminal._**

 _But he didn't know that yet..._

 _London proved to be an extension of South Boston for Jeremy... as if both places were somehow connected with each other in terms of negative influence..._

 _Or maybe that was just him..._

As he sat on the highest point of the cancelled building, he decided to doze off to the peaceful sun in the sky, watching the clouds roll on, because that was what he was doing as well with his own life.

It surprised him as he found out that 3 hours later, he fell asleep by just watching the clouds in silence. He jumped down from the sets of stairs and landed onto a platform. He then jumped over a fence and pulled himself up on a bar of metal that was suspended between two surfaces. As he hung from the bar, he felt like he was _untouchable_ with his natural acrobatics. He would get the opportunity to prove his beliefs about himself as someone suddenly stumbled upon him. He was wearing construction gear, and he certainly wasn't happy to see a young delinquent inside construction grounds.

 _He was trespassing, of course..._

After a few seconds, more of them seemingly came in from out of nowhere, threatening to lock him up because apparently, _it was 'restricted'_ (which he thought was bullshit).

He would've known if it was restricted if there was a sign that said that.

He smirked at the individuals, as he already _knew_ that they wouldn't be able to catch him. He evaded the hands of the workers as he weaved through them with grace, leaving the guards _literally -_ in the dust.

After the whole ordeal with the construction workers was finished, Jeremy decided to call it a day. It was fun while it lasted, and it was a hard counter to the negativity that he was introduced to in the morning.

That's all he could really ask for, happy moments like this. Moments where he felt truly... _young, (and maybe a bit stupid)_ and excited to be living in the moment.

 **It was what Jeremy wanted for his whole life.**

But a general rule of thumb was applied to his type by the book of law and the natural order of things.

... he didn't deserve happiness...

 _criminals never deserve happiness, because there was a thing called 'karma' that came right back around to bite them in the ass for all the unjustly things they did in the past._

He ran back home with a evil smirk on his face, imagining the looks on the men's faces as he outran them by a mile and a half. It was close to evening. He assumed he must've spend a good 5 or 7 hours outside, and though he felt _terrible_ for not listening to his mother's pleads to come back, he would apologize for it later.

He could never stay mad at his mother.

He even considered using the little money he had been saving on something to buy for her. Most likely as an apology gift, because he knew that his mother deserved the whole damn world for keeping him alive this long.

He tried to open the door as he set foot on the faded welcome mat... _but_ _it was locked._ He knocked on the door for a couple more minutes, but there was no reply. He knew that she had to be home. She called in sick for work. Where else would she be if not her own house?

Jeremy still failed to force a reply as he called for his mom, continuing to knock uselessly on the door. He actually knocked on the door until his knuckles took on a purple bruise.

 _Something had to be done about this._

So, he decided to break into his own house.

Mom wouldn't be happy about it one bit, but that was the least of his concerns, as he needed to figure out why she wasn't responding to his knocks... _why he had this nagging feeling inside of him..._

Since the room was on the first floor of the apartment, he easily located the window to his living room. He pushed the cheap glass work in, falling down onto the living room floor and cracking into multiple shards.

 _That would earn him a slap from his mother, but it was nothing he couldn't handle._

He fit his body through the broken window and after some slight squirming, he was now in his living room. He hit the ground with a quiet thud, careful not to make too much noise on the collision.

Jeremy quietly called for his mom... but there was no reply. He checked the kitchen if she was there... _getting it off on a cigarette most likely..._ but when he made it to the small white-tiled kitchen, _no one was there._

He then decided to check the bathroom — _getting it off on a cigarette most likely..._ _no such luck..._

 _Wait._

 _Luck?_

 _Like it was okay to find her wasting her life on a damn cancer-stick..._

Jeremy then checked the bedroom, finding his mom tucked neatly in the sheets of the bed with a piece of paper on her nightstand. He tried to wake her up, but she wasn't reacting. Quickly, at a head-rushing pace, he noticed something very _off; something that made his veins drop below zero..._

 _She wasn't_ _breathing._

His heart hammered within his chest as he listened desperately for a pulse.

 _The eerie silence of death was filling up the room and creeping on him uncomfortably. The feeling of death touched him once he realized that_ _there was no pulse._ _It was because a part of him **died** at that moment._

Jeremy's heart thrashed inside of him as he felt a single tear flowing down his cheeks, which were followed by many more. Panicked, he sprinted all the way to their small living room and used the home phone to call the paramedics. He panicked on the phone, stuttering madly and crying uncontrollably on the line. They asked him to calm down, _but how would he calm down after recently finding out that his mother wasn't breathing?!_

He didn't know what to do - his only piece of _family_ that was still available to him wasn't even breathing anymore, how could he not be panicked?

The paramedics dispatched an ambulance to his location, and while he waited, he prayed that this wasn't real, he prayed that this was just a bad dream, and he'd eventually wake up soon...

 _He wasn't religious. Whatever higher force that looked after him had probably moved on a long time ago, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to try - especially now._

10 minutes felt like an eternity to him as they finally came into his apartment room, a fellow Omnic and a man carrying a limp body onto a stretcher, he went along with them in the back of the ambulance.

Jeremy was sweating and was teary faced as they reached the hospital. As he watched the Doctor examine his mother for any signs of life. He waited for an hour and would not let himself fall asleep, he desperately wanted to know whether or not his mother was going to be fine.

The doctor exited the room with a grim, somber look on his face. The same face that people made when something unfortunate happened. The words that came out his mouth were grimmer, and it seemed to be the last, final words that would break and tear Jeremy apart.

 _"She didn't make it... I'm sorry..."_

 ** _x_**

It all stared at this very moment. 

The unfortunate turn of events to where things would only get worse for the young man.

Jeremy felt like the world fell down upon him.

The rest of his life seemed to be a blur from that point on. School was no longer a necessity for him. He dropped out a few weeks later, abandoned his once-beloved sport of baseball... friends weren't even a necessity for him.

The only thing that proved to remain constant in his downtrodden life was _money._ Even though he was a dropout, he still knew that he'd need currency to survive, and he would need _a lot_ of it.

Shortly after his mother's unwanted passing, he picked up many odd jobs around London, and despite the lack of necessary credentials for 'safe' working conditions in these odd workplaces, it put money in his pocket and that was his primary concern now.

Life would never be the same for him. 

The odd jobs quickly proved to become outright _shady_ and even illegal. It ranged from being involved with the wrong crowds, fighting for money and taking part in illegal activities that would have landed him a hefty sentence in jail, but with money being the motive - it talked big game, and what it was saying to Jeremy was _strong_ enough to convince him to ignore his mother's expectations for him.

 ** _x_**

Fast forward six years after Jeremy's mother had died; he seemed to be doing well in life, but it was all achieved through the wrong path.

The same set of unique skills he's had with him since youth proved to become an important factor of what kept him alive.

He retained, and even _refined_ his scrappy style of fight. 6 years with no parental guidance allowed him to learn plenty of new ways to handle a firearm, and that unusual speed of his synergized well with everything else he did.

Jeremy knew that what he was doing was wrong... but... _he didn't care._ He needed to stay alive - _and not everyone was perfect._ This life of crime ruled him completely, and the money it brought him seemed to make all of his troubles just... _disappear._

 _He was a broken mess inside. He was a snowball rolling down a hill of prob_ _lems. He was a product of Boston that his mother tried so hard to prevent. He was a lost boy in the body of a bad man, but he wouldn't dare show it._

 _It would take something, or someone truly special for him to get fixed._


	3. First Impressions

**_Chapter 2: First Impressions_**

Jeremy turned and cut many corners into the dark alleyways with quick, and rapid succession. Him knowing these streets extensively helped him navigate his way around the city's untrenched walkways. His duffel bag that was full of his crime was weighing him down, but it hardly mattered since he was so damn fast. No one could tell the difference if he was actually _trying_ to maintain a specific pace. He wouldn't allow himself to slow down. Adrenaline was keeping him pumped until he reached safety. If he _did_ allow himself to slow down, then he'd call himself a shnuck for being so stupid.

But he wasn't no shnuck. He was a criminal, and a good one at that.

Once he had ran the full distance of the alleyway, he found himself close to the street his apartment was located at. The nearby sirens blaring off in his location only made him smile, knowing that the local police would be chasing someone they could never catch.

 _"Damn pigs should just stick to their donuts. They ain't catching me."_ He muttered, continuing his trench. He turned another corner, but slowed down his pace almost _completely_ when he saw a woman walking his way...

He narrowed his brows at the unusual sight.

This street was usually dead during the late night. What was a woman doing around here?

"Oi!" The girl commanded him to stop, holding up a halting hand.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes curiously, gripping his pistol just in case.

"And just _where_ do you think you're going?" The girl asked, a firm tone of immediate commandment, and a heavy British accent accompanying the tone. She walked closer to him until he was in full sight of the dimly-litted streets.

 _"What the...?"_ Jeremy went to a complete stop in his tracks, and narrowed his eyes to look at the girl, _examining her._

She had short, thick dark brown hair that looked like it was _ravaged_ by gel, which he furrowed his brows at. The woman was also wearing yellow tinted goggles, a brown leather jacket and orange tights that stood out well in the night... and to men that had more intimate things on their mind.

The woman had a weird... _orb,_ that was placed on her chest, which glowed a bright blue with tiny sparks of teal accompanying it's appearance. The orb she had on her chest caught his attention more than her nicely shaped body did. He knew what that body of her's could probably do in a quick session of sex.

 _Of course, he wasn't thinking about it too much since his priority was on anything but mindless sex with women._

But what about that damn orb? What did that orb do for her? Was it just for show, or did it have a legitimate use?

 _Like all things that needed an answer, he had to ask. And to ask, he must talk — which he was good at._

Jeremy smirked at her demand.

 _"What's up, good lookin'? I was just plannin' on kickin' it at home with myself until you interrupted me..._ _but I wouldn't mind if you came along."_ He took a discreet look over her body, _"I mean... you do got some nice legs on ya, and some nice hips..."_ his eyes travelled further up. _"A nice..?"_ His eyes furrowed at the strange device she was wearing.

 _"... circle thing? And..."_

His eyes landed on her face when it travelled upwards, and based on how her eyes were staring at his...

 _Okay._

The woman was disgusted with his comments, cringing at Jeremy's futile attempts.

"Damn, _not even a smile_." He thought.

He knew rejection when he seen it, and this was no doubt _rejection_ at its finest, and now that his amateur attempt was shot down into the grave, he went straight to the chase with her.

His smile turned into a small chuckle at how unimpressed she looked by his display.

"Alright, alright, _whateva'._ Forget everything I said ten seconds ago, but _look —_ I'd really appreciate it if you got outta my way, cause I got places that I gotta go to," he pointed to his duffel bag, "if bags could walk, I'd let it do it's thing and deliver me the _'good stuff'_ , _but bags can't grow legs..._ ya get that?"

He wondered if the woman understood what he was referring too, but his thoughts were quickly discarded as she pulled out two shiny, polished pistols, and aimed it at him.

 _"That's pretty sexy."_ He quickly thought. But there was absolutely no time to gawk in front of danger.

Jeremy trained his pistol on her just as quick.

"That was kinda sexy- but don't try me, lady! I don't wanna pop ya, but you're kinda givin' me no choice over here!"

He wiped off his smile milliseconds later, threatening the woman once again.

 _"Lady! I'm serious,_ I'll squeeze this trigger if you don't move! C'mon, get out the way-!"

Something unexpected then happened. The woman suddenly... _Teleported?_

There was a faint, broken outline of small teal particles in the position she was once at. It flickered away into the air. Jeremy wasn't focusing on that however. He was trying to place his attention to the very real threat that was now behind him as he placed even more focus on what she _just_ did.

She teleported behind him in an instant, and before he could even react, he felt the little nudges of her pistol against the back of his head.

 _"W-what... what the hell was that? Did you just teleport behind me?"_

He still kept his gun trained at where she _was,_ refusing to drop his gun despite her weapon pointing closely at his dome.

Normally, he'd completely raise the white flag and comply to her commands, but he didn't like following the norm, and believe it or not - he's been in worse situations than this, and still found a way to escape.

The woman commented on Jeremy's observation.

"How _observant_ of you, luv'. Now, since I'm the one in charge, I want you to get down on your knees, _slowly - and please don't dare to try anything that's dodgy..."_

Jeremy smirked, unable to resist the immaturity inside of him.

"I'll do it, _but on one condition."_

She sighed, _"Luv', you're definitely **not** in the position to-"_

He cut her off.

"Why don't you get down on _your_ knees _**slowly,** and after that, I'll start sliding down my pants, while you open your mouth, and then you can-"_

He was cut off by a swift kick to his groin.

 _"AGH!"_ He held his crotch tightly, his loins experiencing severe pain at the moment.

 _"I don't take kindly to criminals giving me orders - and especially not harassment, scum."_ The woman muttered, _"Now I suggest that you save your rubbish for another time and kneel down, **slowly**."_ She repeated, adding emphasis.

He could've easily resisted, but something inside of his crotch felt like it had been killed... _he didn't want to risk anymore damage to his jewels._

 _"Damn... ugh... you kick... really frickin' **hard**."_ He groaned out. He obliged slowly and dropped to his knees.

"Yes, yes, I can tell. _Now drop the gun already."_ She said.

He groaned once again and let go of his pistol, letting it fall to the ground beneath him. It was a miracle how he managed to hold his gun with the excruciating pain bursting below his waist...

"Smashing! And if you don't mind, I'm gonna 'ave to unstrap that bag from your back _real quickly..._ well, _after_ I put some restraints on you," she then carefully reached for a pair of cuffs.

He contemplated making a move, but the slight push of her weapon onto his head stopped the thought.

 _"Oi,_ don't think I forgot about you. Make a move... and... well, I can't _promise_ that you'll be leaving this one _intact..._ do you understand?" She said, jangling the cuffs at her side.

 _"Great. My dick hurts, and she has a gun to my head."_ He thought... though, he did have to admit - _Her voice was really cute, and it was highly distracting..._ well, she _was_ cute. This trait of her's resulted in him not taking her seriously at all, but the action of her kicking away at his crotch, and her potentially being able to put a bullet through his skull almost negated the _'cute'_ factor away from her character.

 _She was adorably aggressive._

 _There._

 _That's what Jeremy would call her._

Jeremy casually laughed her threat off, trying his best to ignore the pain beneath his pants.

"Ahhh- _You gotta be stupid._ You do know you ain't unstrapping this bag off me, do ya? Oh, and those damn cuffs aren't going anywhere around me, Sweet Cheeks."

The woman narrowed her eyes at him.

" _Don't_ call me that."

He scoffed. "Fine, _Sweeter Cheeks." _He smiled at his cheeky improvisation.

A small smile formed on her lips before she shook it away.

 _"Blimey, that was terrible,"_ she muttered under her breath, "can you just give it up already? You're pinned between the barrel of my pulse gun and a tiny inch of your lazy-boy hair. In other words — You're _ploughed!"_ She exclaimed.

Jeremy was quick to think of a distraction to get himself out of this hostage situation.

"Forget that! Why the hell are you out here so late at night? Ain't you supposed to be somewhere else?"

"I'm here to prevent you from _stealing_ what isn't yours, that's what I'm doing out here — ' _so late at night'."_ She quoted, "Now hurry up and let me cuff you so I can go on with my fabulous day!"

Jeremy fortunately, knew the words that would almost always trigger a woman, and he was betting on these words to be his opportunity for an escape plan.

"Fabulous day, huh? Where did you spend it? Oh wait, don't even answer that — you spent it in the _kitchen,_ right?"

... There was a brief pause between them before she spoke... He could've sworn he heard her facial features _twitching_ behind him...

The woman dipped her brows, _"Excuse me?"_

 _"The kitchen._ Ain't that where you supposed to be?" He said with a grimace. "If I were your boyfriend, I'd be worrying about where you are, cause the dishes would seriously get cold without you washing it down."

He was hoping that the snide, sexist remarks were enough to distract her thoughts...

 _"... you did **not** just say that, you ignorant, sexist bloke!"_ She snarled out.

 _ **Success.**_

"But I did! And what's stopping me from saying it again?" He asked, grinning with confidence.

 _"Sexist scum."_ The women let out a furious huff of her breath, fed up with his antics. She was furious. She was preparing to knock him out with the butt of her pistol, completely forgetting about the cuffs in her hand.

But as she was preparing to knock him out, he was preparing as well. He began to twitch subtly as adrenaline flowed into his bloodstream.

She lifted up her pistol.

"I hope you like _dirt,_ cause that's what you're gonna be eating soo-"

Her sentence was cut short by a quick elbow to her midsection, causing her to drop her pistol. Before she could do anything, _he was already up on two,_ and his bandaged fist connected with the side of her head, knocking her straight to the ground.

"Jheez! Sorry, hot stuff! I got places where I gotta be!" He picked his pistol up off the ground and began his escape.

"Oh, and make sure those dishes get done!" He taunted before running off.

 _"Aughhh..."_ she shook her head. Her head felt like it was throbbing. The impact of his fist was something that she wasn't prepared for, and something that she didn't even see coming.

"... _damn it..."_ she scowled at herself for her slow reflexes and held a hand to her head in pain, trying to gain sight of the robber that ran into the streets. Through the blurriness of her eyes, she noticed the _unusual_ speed at which he was running at.

 _"... what-? There's no way..."_ she groaned and shook her head once again as she recovered from his blow, getting up to go and chase him down with her wobbly steps.

Jeremy had a decent head start against her, and he used it to his advantage, wanting to take the chase to the roofs of London's buildings. He had countless experience running the roofs as a stupid teenager. There was nothing more better than putting it to the test in a time of need.

He scaled some stairs that were nearby the apartments. As he escalated the stairs, he looked down and saw the girl literally _phasing_ her way up to him.

 _"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"_ He cursed out. She caught him off guard with how quickly she was bending the laws of the universe!

 _"I know ya ain't human! What the hell are you?!"_ He yelled down below.

The woman took aim and fired wildly at him in return.

"I'M THE WOMAN THAT'S GONNA TEACH YOU SOME MANNERS! GET BACK HERE!"

The woman let out a wild barrage of shots that were aiming at him. He avoided most of the fire however. He finally reached the top of the roof and ran quickly towards the ledge, aiming to jump across to the next roof. He was hoping that he would shake her off his trail, because she was someone or _something_ that he did not know how to fight against.

The woman scowled in annoyance as she missed her shots.

"You better run, luv'!" She made her way up the stairs, using unknown technology to simply place herself in any direction.

Jeremy continued running.

He holstered his pistol for the jump and looked behind him once he had successfully landed. Behind him, was the woman, phasing herself through the air and across the gaps as if it were _nothing!_

He ran quicker towards the next ledge.

" _How the hell did she catch up so **quickly**?!_" He muttered frantically. His breaths were heavy and ragged, but despite this, he still had a good amount of stamina left. And it also surprised him to see how fast the woman was catching up to him... in all his years of running away from the opposition - _he's never_ _seen any_ _one that was ever able to do that._

He jumped towards the next ledge, but as he jumped, the woman fired. Wild shots followed him as he descended onto the next roof, one of the shots finally landing.

She managed to land a shot on his left arm, causing him to hiss out with pain as soon as he landed. The shot however, caused his graceful landing to turn into a rough one.

 _"Damn it!"_ He muttered painfully. He continued to run across the new roof, suddenly finding a suitable place to come up with a quick plan that would hopefully spell _the end_ for the woman that was pursuing him.

The woman teleported onto the roof he was running across and reloaded her pistols with a fancy twirl. She noticed the drops of blood that were creating an obvious trail to where he was going.

"What's this?! Scared of me now, are you? Show yourself! Let a _woman_ teach you how it's done!" She yelled out.

Jeremy stopped running and unstrapped the duffel bag off of his back, grunting with pain as he did so. He shrugged off the pain and unzipped the bag, pulling out his aluminum baseball bat. He then reached deep into the pockets of his hoodie and pulled out a baseball.

The woman continued tracking the faint blood trails with caution.

"So, does it annoy you that you're about to get beaten by a _woman?_ You better be pissy about it!" She yelled out, taunting him based on what was said earlier.

Jeremy waited around the corner for an opportune strike - his fingers relaxing on the material - the handle of the bat firm within his grip. Each second was filled with anxiety as he waited, but it was quickly replaced with a feeling of intensity once she had shown herself.

His breaths slowed down, and time seemed to slow down as well when he made eye contact with her...

 _'It's now or never.'_ His conscience screamed at him. If he missed or hesitated for even a bit, he had no doubt that this lady would be the end of his crime spree.

He had to go all in.

He swung his bat against the baseball with a precise hit that was headed straight at her direction. She tried to react in time from the high-speed baseball, but it proved to be too late as it hit her square in the face, disorienting her and stunning her badly.

Her vision was blurry, and she herself was beyond dazed. She held a hand to her throbbing head as she tried to figure out _what_ just hit her. She slumped towards the ground, her ears ringing and her eyes screwed shut.

 _"Boo-yah!"_ Jeremy yelled triumphantly, clearly in a mood to celebrate because of what he just managed to do. He pumped his fist as he pulled his pistol back out with his left, strutting towards the disoriented woman that tried to catch him. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to put an end to this lady with a swift bullet to her head.

There was no mercy for _anyone_ that tried to kill him... _even if they were sort of cute..._

He was untouchable, and he'd never let go of that self-proclaimed title.

Jeremy stood over the lady, pistol locked and loaded, aimed directly at her forehead.

 _"Ugh..."_ The woman finally regained her vision, only to find her confused hazels staring into the intimidating blues of her potential _killer..._

"Hey hey cutie!" Jeremy pressed the barrel of the pistol against her forehead, causing the girl to let out a harsh gasp.

"Ya get one last word until I waste ya, cause I actually feel bad for ya. I'ma give you two seconds. One... one and a half-"

 _"... R-R... Recall..."_ She weakly coughed out.

Jeremy furrowed his brows at her choice for her last word. "Uhh.. _that was totally a waste of your last words, but whatever..."_ he put the pistol closer to her face.

 _"Say goodnight, cutie."_

He pulled the trigger... but the bullet that came out hit nothing but a blue blur. It collided with the ground right after, stunning him a bit.

 _Jeremy was in disbelief._

 _"Woah! What the hell?!"_ He watched his surroundings and looked behind him quickly, firing bullets blindly, "WHAT?!"

Jeremy was fighting someone that had two pieces of high-tech weaponry, and the choice to teleport anywhere... _was this a fight he could win?_

Before he could even answer, he heard quick footsteps approaching behind him. He turned a second too late, and was met by the hard grip of her pistol hitting his face, stunning him momentarily. She then shot at his right kneecap, causing a gasp of pain to come out of him. The pain dropped him to the ground rather quickly.

His pistol still remained in his left hand, and he tried to bring it up to her so he could pull the trigger, but it was quickly shot out of his hand, causing the bandages on his left hand to slowly wither away.

He held in his pain, a muffled groan being released instead.

She kicked the side of his head, knocking his cap off, exposing his once-hooded face to the moonlight. She kicked him again in the ribs and held both of her pistols to his head.

"This would've been so damn _simple_ if you just complied... _I'm afraid you're gonna have to go through more than a cold knockout..."_ Her finger slowly went over her trigger.

Jeremy smirked up at the girl and chuckled.

 _"Pfft. Pull the trigger then, you cunt."_ He muttered menacingly, staring daggers into her as he dared her to shoot. _"C'mon, I ain't got all day. If you don't pull it, then I'm gonna force you to do it."_

 _The woman was hesitating..._

"I-I will, shut up and just wait!" The woman let out.

She wasn't expecting him to be so straightforward about it. She was expecting him to beg for a chance, not the other way around.

And that stare... she felt intimidated by how ready he was. She could've sworn that she felt goosebumps around her body by just looking at how calm he was about it.

Why was he so confident to meet his death? Did life mean nothing to him? Wouldn't he want one more chance?

The woman was no murderer. She believed in mercy and was considerate of life, but to hear someone so eager for death was new to her.

Suddenly, she was made aware of the fact that her fingers were shaking, and then followed her hands. She always tried to resist taking lives whenever it was unnecessary to do so, and this factored into her decision-making a great bit.

Before she could make the gruelling decision, her comms suddenly turned on.

"Tracer!" A deep voice screamed through the small microphone beside her jaw, startling her, but still keeping her guns trained on Jeremy.

 _"Winston?!_ I'm a bit busy-"

"DO NOT kill that man!" The voice uttered.

"What?!" The girl, known as _Tracer_ asked frustratingly.

How 'Winston' knew she was chasing this man, she didn't know, but she didn't have time to think about it as she tried to counter his argument.

"Winston! This 'man' tried to **kill** me!"

"Please Tracer, I understand... _but he's important_ \- and I will no longer discuss this with you. Subdue him - now. That is an order!"

"WINSTON-?"

"THAT IS AN ORDER!" The voice interrupted, "I'm dispatching an airship to your position, E.T.A five minutes, do you understand?"

"YES, B-BUT HE-"

"I will not discuss this any longer. Subdue him if you must."

"WINSTON, HE'S GONNA-"

Her comms were cut off harshly, cutting her sentence short.

She rolled her eyes. _"Bloody hell..."_ She groaned and kept the two pistols aimed at him, furious that she wasn't allowed to harm him. She stared at the boy that was still on the ground. She stared at him, infuriated - his clear white teeth shining under the unfiltered moonlight, highlighting his punchable smirk.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face or I'll do it for you." She hissed out.

 _"Why?_ My smirk looks a lot better than you, so why in the hell would I get rid of it?" Jeremy replied casually, "Don't lie. My smile looks tons of fun. Don't it?"

His smile was now more charming to her on purpose. Clear white teeth, and a nice curve of the lips, which certainly added to the quality of his facial features. She couldn't deny the fact that he had a nice smile, but actually being attracted to it was something far from her intentions, but regardless, she was left staring at it.

But she would not allow a measly smile of his to make her forget about what he had almost done to her.

She huffed once again at him.

"Damn you! You're a disgrace! Scum like you deserve to rot in jail."

His smile faded into a confident grin.

"And people with hair like yours NEED A FRICKIN' HAIRCUT." He insulted. He laughed at his own comeback, feeling proud. "I mean like, seriously! Ya gotta cut that crap off, you look like a frickin' shnuck!" He said, still smirking, "... and man, I can't say this enough, but you'd be _so much better_ in a damn kitchen! Washing dishes 'n doing crap what women are supposed to do! Think about that, will ya?"

He hoped that another distraction would come into play, but it was foiled in an instant when he felt the impact of her kick against his chin, causing his grin to dissapear.

"Loud mouths like you are so fun to shoot at... especially when they decide to talk to you."

Jeremy groaned and rubbed his chin, ignoring her threat. He mocked her by opening and closing his mouth.

"Blah, blah, blah- _you're all talk._ That's it. All talk and nothin' to back it up... that's what cowards do, no?"

Tracer looked at him questioningly, gritting her teeth together.

"Stop. Testing me." She threatened.

"If ya wanted to kill me - you'd do it by now - but nooo! You're too scared to pull the frickin' trigger on those damn toys ya have." Jeremy discreetly nudged closer to her, "You. Are. A frickin'. _Coward."_ He spat at the ground near her, looking her dead in the eyes.

"And you're the worst of them. No guts to even pull a trigger... hmph. **Frickin' embarrassing**."

 _"... You just won't shut up, will you-"_

She let her guard down, and before she could finish, Jeremy lunged at her pistols with insanely _quick_ reflexes, and before she knew it... she was left unarmed... no pistols in her hand, and nothing to use against the man that had his firearm close by.

Her eyes widened when she saw that both of her pistols were thrown in the distance. Immediately, she tried teleporting away, but her device uselessly flickered as she tried to do so.

 _"Damn! Faulty?!"_ She muttered desperately.

"What's that? Oh, your little doo-hickey ain't workin'?" He smirked at her, "Aw man... _ain't that sad?"_

Her fingers then worked wildly at finding the tase gun that she kept with her. She could feel her heart beat threatening to explode the longer she went without feeling the soft leather grip of it... but she found it soon enough, and perfect timing at that.

A shaky breath flowed out of her as she gripped the tazer tightly with one hand.

Jeremy stood up and grabbed his pistol off the ground, pointing it at Tracer.

 _"S-s-stay back..."_ she whimpered as she backed up.

 _"You fuckin' shnuck._ Ima mess you up so bad, that you'll be beggin' for-"

Tracer cut Jeremy off with a inconspicious pull of her taze gun, firing it quickly at his body.

The electrified rod connected with his abdomen in less than a second, which immediately sent a wave of shocks throughout his entire body. He only managed to fire off 3 bullets in her direction before going down, but she ducked to the right, easily avoiding all of the wild-stray bullets. His body spasm'd and fell to the ground deftly, his arm twitching for a while before going completely limp, his body soon followed.

Tracer exhaled at how close she was to dying.

 _"Phew... Note to self... Always tase scum instead of getting disarmed."_

She did contemplate using the taze gun earlier, but she figured the cuffs would be suitable instead... but this was before she was made aware of his impressive speed, his quick reactions and his deceitful distractions.

She turned on her comms, waiting for a reply.

"What is-"

"Winston, tell the pickup to hurry the hell up! I 'subdued' him." She interrupted, irritated that she couldn't outright put an end to the robber's existence, "And it almost cost me my bloody life." She added.

"Are you hurt?"

"No... no, j-just..."

She took a deep breath.

 _"... I'm just shook up because he almost killed me..._ but other than that, I'm fine."

"Right... well, that makes the two of us," the voice let out a calm exhale, "Hold on there for a couple of minutes, the pickup is on it's way. "I'll also make sure that the individual in question will receive discipline from my associates back at Gibraltar."

She scoffed, "May I volunteer?

"Most certainly not!" The voice denied.

She sighed, "Well, if you're having trouble finding someone, just know that's a position I'll gladly sign up for."

"We aren't trying to kill him, Lena. We need him alive, after all."

"Oh?" She raised a brow, "'Alive', you say? Why in the world would I want to kill such a smooth criminal?" She asked. The other voice on the line knew it was sarcasm however.

"Lena. We need him alive. Period. Goodbye, now."

Tracer rolled her eyes and turned her comms off without a reply. She sat down quietly, away from the man she just tazed, but before she did so...

"Good... bloody riddance!" She spat on the criminal's body, shaking her head in disgust.

 ** _x_**

As Tracer sat alone near the ledge of the rooftop, she thought of how close she was to losing her life just a few minutes ago. Her eyes were quick to land on the criminal he tazed, still furious that she wasn't allowed to kill him, despite him almost killing her _twice!_

Tracer found her performance as something that desperately needed improvement. She couldn't always rely on her device - which was made clear when it malfunctioned in her time of need. It was a miracle that she remembered bringing a tazer along with her. If it wasn't for that, then she would've surely been dead, and she had no doubt about it either.

The criminal was very quick; almost too quick for her to react accordingly. She was lucky that he had a loud mouth. If he kept his mouth shut and decided to end her life right then and there, she wouldn't have even been reminiscing about the encounter - because she would've been _dead._

Tracer, as she was sitting down, found herself getting bored, and fed up. She didn't quite like the view of her hometown in such gloomy shambles; the red and blue coloured sirens lighting off in the distance, the crackles and flashes of orange gunfire appearing once every 5 minutes, and the usual yells of opposition that could be heard from alley to alley... she didn't like seeing her city like this, and though it wasn't exactly where she was raised, she still considered the city part of her home.

Besides, how long would it be until the full, unfiltered influence of this part reach the heart of London?

 _Not too long, if things weren't going to change soon..._

Tracer sighed and sat up. She turned around, the first thing her eyes traveled to was him; the criminal...

Curiosity got the better of her as she got closer. She began to examine him.

He was out of it, no doubt, and after a quick look at his face, she wondered how old he was; soft and sharp facial features, which also came with a rich, tanned complexion. Both of those combined gave him a healthy looking glow of youth.

 _"Ugh. What a bummer."_ Tracer thought that he was simply looked too young to be resorting to crime as a way of life. "So sad when people like you choose to commit crime over good."

She'd be surprised if he was in his 20's. He looked to be about 18... possibly even 17.

He was young... _but_ _the **nerves** on him._

She cringed as she remembered his quick attempt at trying to pick her up... it wasn't happening. It wasn't like he was ugly or anything, he just lacked the proper words and the tone...

Her eyes weren't staring anymore, but rather, _examining,_ as she continued to look at him.

She noticed how his jaw was above average in terms of definition. It stood out well, and though she currently couldn't see the colour of his eyes, she remembered what it looked like, and she couldn't help but compare it to the colour of winter - a pale, sort of light blue. She found it funny to compare his eyes to winter, because the season of winter was cold, and criminals were 'cold' as well. A comparison that made sense!

Her eyes traveled further down.

She noticed his long legs. She bet that they were probably toned for efficiency and work, based on the way he was moving and running around earlier. His body figure was slim, lean, and again - _based on how he was moving earlier -_ she made it safe to assume that he probably had a really well-maintained body underneath that hoodie of his...

 _"... damn it."_ Tracer sighed. She suddenly gave into the temptation to admit that her offender was sort of - just _kind of-_

Dare she say it,

 **Cute.**

She put a disappointed hand to her temple.

 _"Oh, why do you do this to yourself, Lena..._ he certainly doesn't look bad, but who needs criminal scum when you have...-"

Her brain stumped itself as she realized that she didn't have a boyfriend of her own to refer to the unfinished sentence.

"... _oh, sod it,_ I don't need one anyways..." an uncertain pause was placed in her sentence, as if she didn't fully believe in what was coming out of her mouth.

She repeated the sentence again with confidence.

"I DON'T NEED A MAN! I'm a bloody _hero,_ for goodness sakes! And I certainly don't need a smartass, sexist scum telling me that I'm better off doing dishes!" She kicked his body once again, failing to contain a giggle as she did so.

 ** _x_**

Seven, boring minutes have passed, filled with Tracer tinkering around with her equipment and sending even more stares at the tazed criminal laying on the ground (stares, that she considered non-affiliated with affection in any sort of way, shape, or form).

Luckily, the airship that Winston had mentioned that would be coming soon, finally came. It was an airship with the symbol of Overwatch embedded on the structure, hovering quietly over Tracer's location. It found a suitable place to land on top of the roof and opened it's doors shortly after landing.

An Overwatch soldier walked out of the airship's doors, walking over to and carrying the body of the man that Tracer tazed. He carried the slim body of the criminal inside of the airship and layed him onto a stretcher with 4 restrictors, which automatically cuffed him onto it.

The Overwatch soldier saluted to Tracer, "Handled 'em well, have ya?"

 _"Almost,_ luv'. He _almost_ got me, but I was quicker than him." Tracer looked at the unconscious criminal that was in the stretcher, her facial features instantly lowering.

 _"I seriously wanna dump that bloke into a damn river, you know?_ I don't know, maybe- _force,_ a freak accident that would cause his entire body to fly out of the aircraft and hopefully into an ocean full of sharks and whatnot..."

A pause.

 _"... you just said you want him in a 'river'-"_

"Whatever." She huffed annoyingly, cutting the soldier off. She then had him pick up his duffle bag, and being the curious woman she was, she decided to take a peek at the contents that were inside.

"You're curious today, aren't you?" The soldier noticed.

Tracer shrugged in response, "Eh. I might find something that might give me a laugh. Just allow it for once."

"Gotcha."

With that being said, the soldier nodded and walked back inside the airship, waiting for his superior to finish rummaging through the criminal's belongings.

Tracer, while rummaging, found an abundance of currency that he definitely hadn't earned through clean ways. She also found some dangerous items as well, but she wasn't surprised. After all, it was a criminal's bag she was searching through.

After some more rummaging, Tracer came across something that surprised her, because she wasn't expecting it to be inside of the bag.

It was a single photo in one of the many side pockets.

 _"I wonder who's on it..."_ she flipped the photo around, revealing the person captured within the frame.

It was a woman. Slim-figured with delicate black hair and donning a stylish red dress. Spread out around her were 8 young boys, all varying in ages that were possibly from 3 to as old as 17. They surrounded her in funny poses, which must've annoyed the photographer, but the bright smile on the woman's face was telling a different story.

The surprisingly _high_ quality of the photo showed that all of the boys had either true blue, or light blue eyes, while the woman instead had light and soft browns. There were a plethora of gorgeous eye colours as she scanned each of the boys faces with interest.

 _"She looks beautiful..."_ she muttered. She then took a side glance at the unconscious criminal, then looked back at the woman in the photo.

She slowly shook her head.

 _"Blimey... there is no way that she could be the mother of this... this... trash."_

She sighed and placed the photo back in its place and continued to rummage. Whether she knew it or not, she was now trying to find more photos rather than finding dangerous items, which also meant that she was more intent on finding pieces that would give her more insight on the criminal's past life.

She continued to rummage through his duffel bag until she came across another photo... _it was the same woman as well!_

The picture had her alone, smiling, and with beautiful scenery in the background to up the quality of the already amazing photo. And the fact that all the positive features about her were popping out to the camera with ease, it only made the picture _that_ much better.

Tracer smiled at the picture and flipped it over, immediately noticing the messy writing on the back... along with faded wet stains.

The lines read -

'Never forget. Your saviour. Your inspiration. Your sunshine. Your Mother. Never forget. Do not forget.'

"Oh..." Tracer began to frown.

She now knew that this beautiful woman was the mother of the robber. She flipped the picture back over and gently put it back in the pockets, her expression has definitely softened a bit after reading the short lines. She could feel that there was genuine emotion behind those lines, despite them being short.

Tracer continued to search, and was surprised by the amount of personal items the criminal kept in the side pockets. From old photos of mainly his mom to notes - she found _many_ of it. But, there was one piece of a note that caused her to stop in her search.

It was a long note, written in struggling cursive. The text was faded. The note was once stained clear as well, and it was creased in many places. Despite the damages, the writing was still readable.

 ***Note - Separated in paragraphs ahead***

The old, faded note read...

 _'Dear Jeremy (My son, a.k.a. My Little Sunshine)_

 _I didn't want to scare you off like how I did this morning. It was never my intention. I was confused, scared and stressed... If only you have listened to my yells. I pleaded for you to come back. This could have been easier on you. I didn't know how to tell you this. I didn't WANT to tell you this. I would never want to tell you this._

 _But I am going to die today._

 _I know you'll be asking yourself how I know this, but I just have a feeling that it's finally my time to go, as much as I don't want to._

 _It's getting harder to breathe. My airways are tightening. I'm in immense pain everyday and every second, but I keep it inside because I don't want to worry you anymore. I hope you understand._

 _The doc said my stage of cancer was beyond treatment... beyond help... **bullshit**. They said my death would be unavoidable, and it broke my heart to hear that... I hid it from everybody I knew... Including you. As you noticed, I have been in a very bad mood all week. I was hiding the fact that I would be leaving you on your own with no support and no one to care for you, and I didn't wanna do expose you to it._

 _You grew up without a male role model. You grew up with troublesome brothers. You've always been picked on by others because of your body. You've been exposed to evil, and it has taken its effect on you._

 _You've heard and seen enough of it in this cold world, and I didn't want to be the one to put the nail in the coffin._

 _So I kept it a secret until the day that I would expect to die... but then I get a call from your school, saying that you would be expelled... how could you, Jeremy?_

 _Why?_

 _Why would you ruin something I worked so hard for?_

 _Why would you ever do this to yourself?_

 _Why would you set yourself up for failure when you were meant to succeed and live happily?_

 _Why?_

 _... I was so mad, I don't want you to end up dead like all your older brothers... I don't wanna lose another one of my Sunshines. I don't wanna lose another one of my little boys._

 _ **I don't wanna lose you, Jeremy.**_

 _In today's world, education is what can get you out of this horrible life, and I'm sure it will, if you just keep studying hard and staying away from the influence of the hard knocks..._

 _... When I hit you this morning, I was beyond sad... very angry... but, now... I'm even more sad that I won't get the chance to spend my last hours with my only Sunshine left. Don't you get it? You were the last piece of value I had, and you wanted to walk a road of failure..._

 _Hopefully, you'll come back home in time so we can share a few of our last precious moments together, but as of now, it seems that it isn't looking that way._

 _Jeremy Jeune Jones... you never knew that I always wanted to put 'June' as your middle name... Now you know. Your deadbeat father insisted putting 'Jeune' as your middle name, but I forgot the reasoning behind it._

 _Jeremy Jeune Jones, if_ _you're reading this... I am so sorry that I hit you, no matter what I do to you, just know that I love you, I will ALWAYS love you. Please, PLEASE don't end up dead like your brothers. Live for as long as you can, because I know you have a future that is better than what your current situation is. Find a woman that you want to spend your ENTIRE life with, someone that you can call your Sunshine, someone that you can be happy with forever... and if you ever start a family... BE the father that you **never** had... live and prosper in this cruel world, Jeremy... I love you with all my heart. And remember - you will **always** be My Little Sunshine. _

_~ Love, Mom.'_

... and below the note was a small picture of just Jeremy and his mother; It was of him (probably during his teenage years) and of his mom, faces appearing beautiful and stress-free as ever.

The criminal- or, _Jeremy,_ was smiling proudly in the picture. His eyes shone preciously to the camera as he had an arm wrapped around his mother's waist, hugging her tightly. His mom wasn't even looking at the camera, instead, her face was pure happiness as she looked at her son instead. She also had her arms wrapped around her son.

And beside the main frame of the photo, it was another short segment of his mom's writing.

It read...

 _'My favourite picture of us together, cherish the memories, Jeremy.'_

As soon as Tracer finished reading the note and looking at the picture, she unknowingly let a tear slide down her cheek. The tear fell onto the note as she sniffled quickly.

The soldier overheard the sniffle from the ship's open doors and decided to turn around.

"Uh... Tracer, you okay there?"

"Oh." She wiped her eyes and blinked out the remaining tears, "Y-yeah. I'm fine." She answered. She put the note gently back into it's pockets with shaky fingers, "I'm... I'm fine, don't worry."

 ** _x_**

Tracer pulled even more of Jeremy's gear out of the duffle bag. There were some unusual looking soda cans, a total of 5 baseballs, and a _dangerous_ looking shotgun that she had never seen before. She had the soldier organize the weapon with the rest of his confiscated gear.

After she was done going through his bag for any gear that needed to be confiscated, she passed on the duffel bag to the soldier. He took it in his hands, but before he could walk away with it, she spoke up.

 _"Be careful with the bag, please."_ She requested. Knowing the amount of personal items that probably meant the _world_ to him that were inside that bag was what caused her to say that.

Despite the helmet covering the soldier's expressions, his body language was saying that he was a bit shocked from what he was hearing.

"Can't lie - I thought you wanted his bag thrown in a river too."

She rolled her eyes, "Just keep it safe. That's an order." She didn't want his personal belongings being tarnished... especially those pictures of his Mother, and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she had sympathy for the criminal that almost killed her twice.

The soldier nodded, and placed the criminal's duffel bag inside the corner of the airship. He carried the stretcher inside the airship as well, signalling the pilot for takeoff shortly after.

Tracer waved at the soldier as the airship took off for Gibraltar - The incognito HQ of Overwatch.

After the airship flew off, Tracer began searching the roof for her pistols. She found them dangerously close to the edge and picked up both, holstering it back into their proper places.

In the corner of her eye, she noticed a small piece of paper. She walked over to and inspected it; it was a photo of a man... cloud-coloured eyes... a lightly tanned face... a defined jawline... _clear white teeth-_

Once she found out what was wrong, she rolled her eyes.

 _"Lena... why are you like this?!"_ She ridiculed herself when she realized she was studying the face of the boy that tried to kill her twice. _Maybe_ she misunderstood the boy, but nothing could make her forget the fact that he almost killed her twice - _willingly_ too.

She sighed and was about to let the picture fly from her hands... but she was hesitating. She didn't know why, but it irked her to know that her fingers were struggling to let go of the picture of this criminal.

But suddenly, she overcame the odd sense of hesitation and finally managed to let go of the picture. She let the winds carry it away. She eyed it until it was out of sight, but there was a nagging feeling telling her that she should've kept it.

Tracer yawned and stretched her body. She decided to blink back to her apartment that was fortunately, far away from the more corrupted parts of London. She shared the place with no one, but she wished that she had some company to compliment her chatty behaviour.

And it certainly **wasn't** going to be Jeremy... she hated criminals.

But, deep in Tracer's thoughts, there was _something_ that made her think of the damn criminal... And it annoyed her... **_a lot._**


	4. Help Wanted

**_Chapter 3: Help Wanted_**  


Jeremy woke up to foreign sounds that consisted of lowhums and calm flutters. He groaned, blinked his eyes twice and tried to rub his head... _but he couldn't._ His wrist was being held down by something. His vision was blurred as well. Suddenly, in confusion, he waited for his vision to fix itself. With each second that passed, the worry inside of him continued to grow.

After a few more seconds, his vision was now clear;

He looked around and immediately noticed that his arms and legs were restrained to a stretcher.

He tried shaking his way out of the tight cuffs.

"Whoever's up to this — this ain't funny! The dumbass that strapped me onto this frickin' thing is gonna get their head stomped in, I'm tellin' ya!"

He continued trying his best to shake and break out of the cuffs, but he was met with no success as it kept him locked and secured in place.

 _"Fuck."_ He cursed out.

He took a look at his surroundings, and he spotted his duffle bag, which was nearby some sort of sliding door.

 _"Who the hell put it there?"_ He furrowed his brow at how his belongings even managed to get to... _wherever_ _it was._

 _He assumed that he was far ways from home._

He looked straight up and saw that there was a skylight on the roof that allowed him to see what was outside... he saw that the sky was moving _very_ fast. The noise that he was hearing became even more distinct to his ears; soft and humming.

It was the type of hum an engine gave out when it powered down.

After having decent knowledge of what surrounded him, he decided to ask himself the main question based on the current situation he was in...

"Okay. _Where the hell am I?_"

He tilted his head further upwards and saw a person with an intimidating rifle in his hands. He assumed it was a soldier of some sort. The emblem the soldier had on his jacket was one he didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't belonging to the local police force, or any other 'peacekeeping' groups he had his run-in's with.

The emblem was a black circle that had yellow-coloured pincer's at the top of the circle, two lines that were _almost_ merging in the middle of the circle.

Jeremy furrowed his brows at the sight.

The soldier seemed to be sleeping, upright as well, which only added to the sheer confusion that Jeremy was in.

"Hey! Soldier boy!" Jeremy yelled, waking up the man immediately.

 _"Grr_ _... I thought that tazer's were supposed to last at least seven hours."_ The soldier grumbled.

Jeremy was baffled by his words.

 _"W-wait. What?"_

 _He doesn't remember getting tazed..._

"Hey! What do you mean, _'tazed'?_ Who-who did this?!" He pulled at his restraints, "I need answers! C'mon man!"

"And I need a good nap, _criminal."_ The soldier snarled out.

Jeremy rolled his eyes, _"Pfft. Bozo."_

"Shut your mouth or I'll do it for you." The soldier muttered.

Considering the situation he was in, he thought that it would be unwise to test the soldier's mettle while he was literally cuffed to a stretcher.

"Right, _my bad."_ Jeremy apologized insincerely.

Now that he had his attention, he had a chance for his earlier question to be answered.

"Wait! Before ya nap off — do you mind tellin' me where I am? An-and better yet, _why the hell am I cuffed to this damn table?!_ This feels like crap!" He complained, pulling at the restraints for emphasis.

The soldier groaned.

" _Err..._ if I tell you, will you let me sleep?"

"Hundred percent. Guaranteed. No strings attached. _Yes."_ Jeremy confirmed.

The soldier stared at him, unimpressed by the 4 repetitive answers, but regardless, he told him what he wanted to know.

"So an agent of our's, Lena Oxton, or uh, ' _Tracer',_ as she's commonly referred as — kicked your ass, tazed you, and here you are — _on a table, restrained, because my superior said that he had a use for you... your,"_ he chuckled, _"'Talent's'."_ He finger quoted, "... Now, does that answer satisfy you? Or do I gotta give you a whole story to make your day?"

Baffled and _shocked_ at the information that he had received from the soldier, Jeremy couldn't help but keep his jaw ajar.

 _And that name..._

 ** _That woman..._**

 ** _Tracer..._**

 _It ringed annoying memories inside of his mind, and brought confusion to his face._

"Wait... _that... that Tracer chick — she fucking tazed me?!"_ Jeremy asked, in disbelief.

"Yeah — she probably got you good considering you don't even _remember it."_ The soldier chuckled, _"You probably underestimated her, and maybe that's why you're stuck on this table."_

"Shut it, army boy! I was about to kill her until she..." He blinked in realization as he remembered just how the situation fell apart for him.

"... Until she... _fuck..."_

He remembered how close she was to dying at his hands, the grip of his pistol was warm and ready — _cocked and loaded, aimed to kill..._ and then she pulled out something _small... and then..._

 _Tragedy._

"Fuck. She did taze me." Jeremy scoffed, his face full of disappointment.

 _"How the hell did I allow myself to get outplayed by that chick?"_ He pulled at his restraints in anger, "DAMN IT!"

"Just cause you got beat by a girl doesn't mean you gotta cry about it." The soldier commented.

Jeremy smirked and began to chuckle at him.

"Haha..." he shook his head at him, "You're so lucky I'm strapped onto this piece a' crap right now, I'd smash ya skull in for saying that."

He temporarily forgot about the current situation that he was in.

Jeremy, unsurprisingly, seemed to hit a nerve of the soldier.

"Listen here you bastard," he marched closer to the robber, "if you don't _shut that fucking mouth up,_ this gun," he waved the butt of his rifle in front of him, "... is gonna smack you in that little head of yours." He held a stareoff with the cocky man, daring him to try anything else that was stupid.

Now, Jeremy wasn't afraid of soldiers, or individuals with intimidating weapons... _he wasn't afraid of anyone._ He kept his stare steady and composed with the soldier.

The soldier eventually gave up and smirked back at him.

"... Keep talking though, I won't mind it."

"Wasn't plannin' on it since you told me I was gonna get knocked out if I did."

The soldier backed off and returned to his wall, leaning on it.

"So... that ' _Tracer' chick,"_ he snickered a bit at the alias, "she's with you guys?" He suddenly asked.

"Yes. Now let me take my damn nap." The soldier answered, tilting his head downwards.

Jeremy sighed and decided not to press on the soldier anymore. He had already been beaten by Tracer, he didn't need anymore beatings to be embarrassed of.

"Huh... well, goodnight, I guess." Jeremy mumbled. He didn't like letting his guard down, but in the situation he was in, he wouldn't be able to do much if anything was to happen. If he was to die in his sleep - so be it. If he was meant to keep living - so be it.

He closed his eyes and awaited whatever was to happen next.

 ***Some time later***

Jeremy opened his eyes, giving out an immediate yawn.

His wrists and legs were still held down... but he seemed to be out of the stretcher, but this time he was in a chair of some sort. Not like it made a big difference. He was still cuffed down, and unable to move.

 _Movement was essential with him._

He looked straight ahead and saw a monitor in front of him, and _someone_ was behind it.

The person was _huge_ with a bad hunched back and terrible posture. The figure looked intimidating, but Jeremy wasn't quick to size the figure up. He didn't care. He needed to know what type of situation he got himself into.

 _"Hey_... big fella', I can see you over there. Help a man outta these cuffs will ya?"

The man behind the monitor gasped, clearly taken off guard because of how surprised he was.

 _"Oh! you scared me!"_

 _"Boo hoo._ If it's anyone who should be scared, it's me. I'm the one that's pinned and strapped to a friggin' chair... and I ain't saying that I'm _scared_ or anything - cause it's gonna take a lot more than _this_ to get me crappin' my pants - but... _I'm just statin' facts."_ Jeremy said, "Now, can you let me outta this goddamn chair? I feel like my wrists are boutta' numb up."

"Hmm... I'm afraid I can't do that just yet... Uh..." The voice paused, "Mr. _Jeremy_? Is that it?"

The voice was deep and intellectual, very clear sounding as well... if Jeremy had to guess, he guessed that voice belonged to some sort of top level professor at some top level university.

 _'Sounds like a damn snob to me,_ _but_ _how the hell does he know my name?'_ Jeremy thought.

He was ensured from one of his many _connections_ , that his full name would be erased from the public and his identity would be concealed from any police stations that tried to keep a track on him. He assumed, rather quickly, that this _wasn't_ a police station he was in. The room looked too polished for a normal station, the lights were dimmed, and the windows were shut _tight. Tighter than a police station that would have it's windows closed._

 _He would know, of course._

And he was strapped onto a chair. Now granted, police stations had chairs with straps as well, but the specific chair felt... _different..._ he quickly came to the assumption that this was an interrogation room, but what would he be interrogated for?

Information on his connections? Confidential information on the supreme government?

He didn't know yet. He didn't want to find out, but he had little choice in the matter.

"Yeah. It is," Jeremy answered, "but wait a minute, big fella. How the hell do ya know my name?"

"That — I'll explain to you later, as well as everything else. But right now, I need you to come to terms that that you must agree on."

Jeremy shook his cuffs, not seeing much of a choice but to listen to whatever the voice was going to tell him to do.

"Crap _._ I don't have much of a choice do I?"

"Negatory, Jeremy. I'll be completely understanding and complying if you refuse to accept to the terms, but I'm afraid that I can't let you go from that chair until you do... but please, feel free to stay in the strapped chair for however long you want. The choice is all up to you though." The voice notified.

Jeremy groaned at the thought of being trapped in a _chair_ for a day.

Seeing no other choice, he accepted and began to listen, _"... Fine._ Tell me what I'm agreeing to."

"Thank you. I'm going to cut straight to the chase here, Jeremy. I _know_ you're a criminal, your database proves it and... I am also _well_ aware of your natural acrobatic skills. Your elusiveness and agility is _very_ interesting... In the sense that _no_ other person has naturally developed what you have."

He scoffed at the praise he was recieving. The praise added a boost to his ego.

"You're damn right 'bout that. Ain't no one got it like me. _I'm essquizitte."_ He said with a smirk.

The voice cleared his throat. _"'Ex-Kwi-Zit', Jeremy."_ He corrected.

Jeremy's smile disappeared and had been replaced with an unimpressed pout, _"Whatever."_

"Moving on, your skills could be used for something that has far more value. Instead of using it for spreading mayhem across London - where you've done most of your _crime sprees'_ — you could instead be using it for something that is... _Respected,_ and upheld in society." He suggested, "That's the whole gist of what I want to talk to you about. Listen, Jeremy, you have a very, _very_ , good chance to turn your life around right now with this simple agreement."

"What? You mean like... 'turn my life around', as in, not having to rob people anymore?"

"Yes, Jeremy. You won't have to rob _anyone_ , ever again." The voice confirmed.

It didn't sound appealing so far. Jeremy was a criminal that had gotten used to theft, and the idea of giving it up so suddenly just didn't sound _right_ with him... but regardless, he continued to listen.

"If I don't gotta rob anymore, does it mean I won't have to take jobs that pay _BANK_ — from crooks anymore?"

"By ' _crooks_ ', I'm assuming you mean your ' _connections_ '?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever ya wanna call 'em."

"In that case, _yes,_ you can cut them out of your life for good."

Jeremy scoffed a bit at how unrealistic the voice was sounding right now.

"Heh... _So,_ you're basically tellin' me that I don't have to do anything that's illegal if I do whatever you want me to do." He said.

 _"Hmm..._ close. You simply won't have to resort to crime as a means of getting by in life, as you'll come to understand and attune yourself to it more clearly once you begin."

"How?" Jeremy asked.

The voice paused for a bit, then asked him a question.

"Why do you do what you do, Jeremy?"

He could've gave out a lot of answers as his response, but he ultimately decided on one, because it was the most reasonable explanation for why he chose a life of crime.

"... I guess I do it for the money, y'know? What's life without it? It's what keeps me from going hungry and living and dying like a bum, so I have to make sure that it never happens to me."

"Why couldn't you settle on a normal _paying_ job then?" The voice inquired.

Jeremy narrowed a brow.

 _"Hey, buddy. I didn't exactly graduate with a diploma in my hands. And I ain't desperate enough to work a job that pays like shit just to keep myself BARELY off the streets._ Do you get what I'm saying? Why the fuck would I work like hell just to be on the frickin' edge of it? It's all gonna be for nothing. Pure _squat."_ He told the voice.

The voice continued, "So the real reason you do crime is because you feel like you need to. Is that it?"

"Yeah, you can say that. Try growing up with a buncha dead family members and a lotta' shady people that know how to get quick bucks, and I guess that's what it does to people."

Jeremy struggled against his restraints for a quick second and took a harsh breath. The fact that he unknowingly pulled up the topic of his family angered him both inside, and on the out.

 _"I'm getting tired of talking. Get to the point and just tell me what you want."_

The voice obliged, much to Jeremy's surprise.

"Very well. All I ask from you is that you help aid my allies and I against the people that plague and threaten London."

"Huh? That's it?" Jeremy figured that there must've been more to such a short-worded request.

"Would you like me to to repeat myself?" The voice asked.

"Nah. I heard you the first time, I just thought you wanted more out of me."

"But what more could we get out of you, Jeremy? The chance to turn your life around for the better of countless civilians, the world... and most importantly of all, _yourself._ All within just one favour that you'd be doing for us - An opportunity for you." The voice said, "This is more valuable than anything that you could've gave, and that's the chance to become a better person. Not just for the world, but for yourself."

Jeremy blinked twice as he registered what was being said to him.

 _"Think about it."_ The voice said, leaving himself and Jeremy alone in silence for now.

No doubt... this was a _lot_ for Jeremy to take in. He was being offered a chance to seemingly turn his life around on the spot; the chance to be someone respectable in society instead of continuing with his dangerous life of crime.

He remembered how terrible he felt the first time he started to resort to it.

It wasn't out of free will, but rather, out of pure need for the money he _needed_ to support himself... he remembered the look on the old man's face as he helplessly hobbled after him... he remembered the cries of the man's wife as he ran away with their money...

 _ **It hit him hard when he realized that the man died of a sudden heart attack just minutes later... he could never forget about it...**_

Is this why he was letting the option of a different lifestyle become so tempting for him?

Was it because he felt the need to repent after all these years? Was it because that deep down, he genuinely knew that this life of shade wasn't the path he wanted to go down in the first place?

Was it because he wanted to be _**better**_ than whatever he was right now?

After a long minute of silence, Jeremy spoke up.

 _"I..."_ he cleared his throat and looked ahead, "I... I know that what I'm doing is fucked up, but, I don't know... _ain't it too late for me?"_

 _"Hm?_ What do you mean?" The voice asked.

"I've been robbing and even _killing_ people for the past six years. How am I just gonna forget how to do it overnight, you know?"

Jeremy _wanted_ to accept the opportunity he was being given to change his ways - but he was scared of what was to follow. He believed he was a criminal at heart, and that his intentions would forever be stained, and that it would only be a matter of time before he went back to his ways.

"... You're having doubt in you, changing yourself for the better... is that what's bothering you?" The voice asked, wanting to help the young criminal.

 _"Yeah._ I'm a bad motherfucker, and I know it, so is there any damn point to asking me to make this world a better place if I know what I _really_ wanna do?"

"Hm. Normally, I'd say 'no', but the human mentality is a complex array of mystery and things that are unclear to many... which is why I am telling you to, _at the very least,_ _**try.** "_ The voice told him, "Try, to become better. Try, to overcome old habits and replace them with new ones. Try, to go down a path that you haven't went before, and hopefully succeed in your pursuit."

Jeremy couldn't complain with what the voice was suggesting to him. What bad was there in _trying_ to become a better person than what he currently was? But, of course, being a graduate of the streets, he obviously saw some bad in it, and even coming to terms with it. He hoped it was minor issues that he would get over.

After some silent thought, Jeremy finally declared on a choice.

 _"You know what? I 'agree' to whatever you want me to do."_ He said, "And I don't really care on what's in it for you or anyone else I'm doing it for. I'll do it cause I feel like it... _and if I do it, it'll get me outta this chair, right?"_ He asked, lightly stressing against the restraints.

The voice seemed to deny the criminal's hidden request. "Would it be wise to let you go so easily, though?" He asked. "How can I be sure that you won't start anarchy as soon as the restraints come off?"

Jeremy genuinely expected to be freed so easily, but it seems like that wasn't the case.

"I don't even have my weapons on me, man. You really think I'd do anything stupid without it?" He told him, partially lying, but still not far from the truth.

"You seem to be skilled enough in hand to hand combat to make up for the disadvantages of being unarmed, if the information provided to me is correct."

"That's faulty, cause I'm tellin' ya - I wouldn't do crap without the shottie at my side." Jeremy said, again, still partially lying.

"If that piece of info is faulty, then how much of it more isn't?" The voice asked.

"Man, I don't know! But I'm telling you, I'm all in on whatever you want me to do, just let me outta this chair and tell me more of what the hell's going on. _I deserve to know that, at least."_

Jeremy quickly scanned the dim room for anything that would stop him from trying anything 'stupid', or, in his case, _'essential'._

The first issue he noticed was the closed door that was just ahead of him. It seemed like the door had no handle, so an option of escape from whatever was inside this dark room was unlikely, and if not, then difficult at the most. He also took into consideration the figure of the voice that was talking with him; big, bulky, and probably a lot stronger than he was. He was good at fighting with his hands, but finesse could only do so much against a stronger person, especially when inside cramped spaces...

He came to the conclusion that trying anything 'essential' was not worth it of the moment. He just needed to know more of what was going on for him to make any more choices.

The voice spoke up, "Yes, I suppose you do deserve some insight of what you may potentially get into in the following moments... by any chance, have you heard of the Omnic Crisis that happened roughly- say, twenty years ago?"

 _"Twenty years ago?"_ Jeremy pondered, "Nah. I don't think so. Don't know much about it. I was probably only two years old, and I didn't hear much about it cause it wasn't much of a buzz when I was growing up."

He then tried to remember any mention of an 'Omnic Crisis' in recent memory... and it just so happened, he remembered seeing a _very old_ newspaper article a week ago, which highlighted the defeat of the Omnics.

The only thing he remembered about the article was not the text surprisingly, but instead, the picture that was on the front page. He remembered the picture having a soldier-figure of some sort, with blonde wavy hair and a blue trench coat and a rifle that was resting against his shoulder.

... Walking in the cities alleyways had let him see all types of old stuff — old newspapers being the most common.

"Wait- hold on. I do know that the Omnics ended up gettin' their asses kicked by some soldiers. Right?"

"Those 'soldiers' were part of an elite peacekeeping organization that was internationally spread throughout the globe at one point," The voice said, in a way that was heavily reminiscent... almost emotional. "... but, uh, times have changed... well- _drastically..._ do you happen to remember the name of the peacekeeping group that ended the Omnic Crisis _and_ possibly saved all of mainland Europe from total Omnic domination? Much less — _the world,_ from total domination?"

Jeremy tried to remember anything that was relevant to the question, but nothing came to mind. He kept his mouth shut, hoping that the voice would take it as a sign that he was clueless.

And he did.

"... They were called 'Overwatch'. They were once the peacemakers of humanity until..."

The voice let out a long breath.

"... until the incompetent government took us down..." the voice had grown even more somber, and even more at the deep sigh, "... Those days- their glory days, are long gone — Their identity now obscured by false news and misguiding leaders. But not _all_ is lost... because I know that Overwatch can be restored back to it's past glory, and I am intent on making it happen."

The voice paused for a bit, then refocused his attention to the criminal in the chair.

 _"Jeremy._ The favour I ask of you... are you willing to hear it once again? In a more specific manner, no less?"

"What's more specific 'bout how you said it earlier?"

"Simple. I am not going to ask you to just be of some minor _help_ to my allies and I... I want you to _join_ us instead."

The more informed request of the voice came out as a complete surprise to Jeremy. First, he was asking him for just some simple assistance, but now he wanted him on their team? What was he getting into?

"Woah, woah- Hold up a minute, I don't know about that being a permanent thing-"

"It's not a permanent thing." The voice interrupted, "Let me rephrase, because judging by your reaction, it caught you off guard."

The voice began to rephrase the request.

"Overwatch is in need of help. It's in need of talented individuals that can provide a spark for coming back from the brink... specifically, _you_. Do you remember the woman that almost killed you? Just a night ago, I believe. Tracer was her codename, I take it that you remember her?" The voice asked.

Jeremy scoffed out at the question. As if the voice was talking ludicrous!

"What the-? How could I forget 'bout someone that I was supposed to friggin' kill? _Of course_ _I remember her,"_ his brows furrowed annoyingly at the remembrance of her name, and even more so of how she turned the tables on him, _"... but then she pulled out that goddamn tazer..._ _can't believe I wasn't quick enough for that."_

"Jeremy. There is no more need for complaints as it is already in the past."

Jeremy was beginning to get agitated.

"And who're you? Don't talk like you own me or something."

"The latter I will never agree with — _but might I make myself known to you — I am the one that had saved your life from certain death."_

Jeremy recalled the deep voice that came from the woman's communication device... and the voice was right. Without his interference, he would've been dead.

"Huh... so it was _you_ that had that deep voice behind her mic... _th_ _anks,_ I guess." He muttered out, half-assed.

"While I _do_ sense a lack of sincerity from that, I will bring it up for some other time, as there are more pressing matters at hand. Now, continuing on, when she was chasing you, it was almost impossible to not notice the unusual speed at which you were running at." The voice told him.

"How did you see me if you weren't even there?"

"Easy. Thanks to Tracer's mini-surveillance camera I installed on her goggles, I was able to witness the whole scene from base grounds," the voice answered, "There are very few people that can have a successful escape from Tracer due to the time-warping device that I implemented on her... you however, managed a _very_ good run against her. Actually, the _best_ resistance I have seen when it comes to pure use of leg power and acrobats. I saw potential in you... a potential for stronger manpower to be added to our group for some temporary time at the least. I saw the chance and I seized it, and when she held the gun to your head, I managed to contact her quick enough before she did anything too drastic-"

Jeremy interrupted with a harsh tone of voice, "Listen. She wasn't gonna do anything _drastic_. The damn _shnuck_ was scared. Her fingers were shaking! You shoulda seen it for real! Damn chick couldn't even move a piece of hair with how stiff she was."

"That is of little importance, Jeremy. The bigger picture is that she had made you available to us by subduing you, and bringing you here for an offer of mine."

"And I thought I already told ya this. I'm not interested in this being _permanent."_

"And you don't have to worry, because it _won't_ be permanent. We simply need some temporary, but _important_ , help on our comeback, we need to prove our worth again to the society before we... _come back from the dead_ , as so to speak. If all you're worried about is being forced into a permanent spot on Overwatch, then allow me to relieve you, because if wanted - _again,_ I can offer you a temporary spot instead... so, what do you say?"

After some little thought, Jeremy made up his mind.

"Honestly, you had me at temporary. Let's hear it then. What do you need me to do?"

"Very well. As you most likely know, the influence of _crime_ is heavy — inside, and outside of London, and even where it shouldn't be."

"What do you mean by that?" Jeremy inquired.

"What I mean is that the problem stems not just from the exterior, but the interior as well. Inside the buildings of government and sometimes even religious. The rates of crime ranging from theft all the way to murder are senselessly going up every year, and it doesn't seem like it's going to stop either. Some time ago, I had some incognito agents investigate and gather evidence as to... _why_ this has been happening so commonly throughout England, _London_ specifically."

The voice then let out a deep sigh as he struggled to make up a sentence.

"Unfortunately, the ones I... the ones I sent out have been..."

A pause. He cleared his throat.

"Their fates are unknown, all but one however, was found in a heap of garbage." The voice said disappointingly. "It... it hurts when you know that you potentially sent a total of five members out to their deaths just to get little to nothing in return. It was the act of trying to gather information on this confusing spike of crime throughout the city, and I had no choice but to put a stop to it. The criminal network is far more intelligent than I had given it credit for... but not all hope is lost."

The voice continued, "Their sacrifices yielded an important lead on what I am sure, are the 7 masterminds behind the rampant crime throughout London. And though I've said that there are currently _7_ behind the scenes that are spearheading this violent push, I've only been able to find out the identies and whereabouts of _two."_

The voice cleared his throat before continuing further.

"Now, I've been keeping a close eye on this statistic for quite some time, but never had the manpower or the resources to deal with it. Most of my manpower has seemingly dissapeared without a trace when investigating, and I can only assume the worst as to what happened to those poor souls."

Jeremy would assume the worst too, because he had inside knowledge on what the voice was trying to pursue.

"They were murdered." He said, in a tone that was very much knowing.

"I'm afraid so, Jeremy... anyways, much of my time had been spent on planning and observing... contemplating on the correct time to call the Overwatch members back into action. It hasn't been an easy decision to make. This is why I'm requesting assistance from you, Jeremy. Your database proves that you in fact have connections with one or maybe two of these nefarious figures."

Jeremy was clueless as to how he extracted such information.

The voice continued.

"You've also done some jobs for one of them it seems. There is no doubt that _someone_ has to get rid of these spearhead figures. When their gone, the citizens of London would have no choice but to wonder why life seems more peaceful, and more importantly, they'd be wanting to find out who's responsible for it. Majority vote is what usually wins battles, and in our battle to rise from obscurity, the people's vote should be more than enough to bring us back into the scene - regardless of what the corrupted authority has in disagreement with us..."

The voice snickered a bit and let out a sigh right after.

"But, ah, I'm thinking too far ahead. Right now, I need to focus on the tasks at hand, one at a time... and I need your help."

It didn't matter to him what'd he be doing. He just felt like obliging was the best choice for now, because he had no idea where he was, and he had no idea of what this man was capable of yet... oh, and he wanted to get out of the chair ASAP.

"Yeah, I can help, I mean, when you're strapped to a chair, you'd do anything to get out, right?"

"..." The voice remained in response.

Jeremy gulped at the bad choice of words, "Umm. I mean, _yeah_ , I'll help out." He rephrased.

"Good. Let's talk about what I need you to do."

The man pressed a button and the rooms lightened up, revealing many tech-savvy equipment surrounding the room he was in.

"Athena, unstrap the subject in the chair please." He said.

 _"Athena? Who? That a chick or something_?" He asked.

A dull feminine voice filled the room.

"Unstrapping..." the cuffs around Jeremy's calves and wrists unstrapped.

"Thank you, Athena."

"Affirmative, Winston." The feminine voice replied.

Jeremy was in awe, a robot that had voice commands for unstrapping chairs?

Cool!

"So," Jeremy found it safe to stand up from the chair, stretching out his back, ".. ya name's _Winston?"_

"Mhm, now, if you would come here for a moment, right beside me please."

Jeremy moved his now free body parts and stood up from his chair, stretching out his back.

"Man, you really shoulda done this earlier, but I ain't complaining." He yawned, "So, what do ya need me to do again?"

"Come here, I need you to know what you'll be doing for your _temporary_ job."

Jeremy walked over to the computer, but let out a terrified yell when he saw what was _actually_ behind the monitor.

 _It was no man, nor an Omnic — but a **talking** gorilla._

 _"WOAH- WHAT THE HELL?!_ " He tripped backwards and landed square on his back, almost knocking over some equipment as he backed away further from the sight.

 _"Y-YOU CAN TALK?!"_ Jeremy asked, baffled and terrified at the same time, still straggling away from the gorilla.

Winston rolled his eyes at the man's reaction, _"Hmph. It's 2080, and people are still surprised that gorillas are capable of communication?"_

"Hey! Don't blame me for not knowing about this! I just..." Jeremy gulped, "I just... didn't know that talking animals frickin' existed!"

He took a deep breath, afraid to get anywhere near the big, hairy, _intellectual_ beast.

"Okay... I'm standing up now..." he stood up and slowly walked towards Winston, legs ready to run if his big hands were to grab and pulverize him.

The gorilla had glasses that a scientist would make use of. He had a white-armoured plate that surrounded his enormous hunched body. On the back of his armour were jet packs, which he furrowed his brows at.

"What's a gorilla gotta do with a jet pack?" He asked, getting even more fearful of the thing.

"For purposes related to science, and the advancement of technology, Jeremy." Winston answered.

He then noticed a jar of peanut butter by the gorilla's side.

"Peanut butter, huh? What _'sciency'_ stuff can you do with that?"

"Many things that are still unknown to me, but I keep it nearby as a complimentary for my bananas that I absolutely _a_ _dore._ But right now, I need to brief you on what you'll be doing for Overwatch."

Winston gestured at Jeremy to take a seat beside him.

 _"Umm. I'm good, thanks."_

Winston nodded, understanding him.

He somehow clicked on the files that he had been researching on his computer. The files opened to reveal a bunch of descriptive text, pictures of run-down buildings and two pictures of what Jeremy assumed — were _two_ of the spearheads that Winston was referring to.

Winston slowly moved the cursor on one of the two pictures - the picture consisted of a man in a black trench coat, wearing a marine helmet that covered half of his face from the top. On his trench coat was an American flag that was embedded on both sides — back and front. The helmet he wore had blood splattered all over it, but behind the crimson stains, Stars and Stripes of red and blue could be seen faintly behind it.

The man in the picture would have looked like the proudest patriot that Jeremy had ever seen... If it wasn't for the blood splatters.

Winston zoomed in.

"This is one of the 'masterminds' that's reportedly been behind the giant influx of senseless murder rates going up. _And notice how I said 'mastermind',"_ he added.

"Why? How'd you say it?" Jeremy asked, unable to get to what Winston was pointing at.

"Out of all the higher ranked honchos of the criminal hierarchy — this specific one on screen may be the most.. _incompetent, to put it in polite terms."_

Jeremy rolled his eyes, _"Jeez,_ can you just make it simple for the both of us and tell me that he's ' _stupid'?"_

"Very well, Jeremy. This individual is _'stupid',_ which gives you a big advantage in clearing him out of the big picture... moving on,"

The gorilla then moved onto another picture - This picture consisted a group of men that wore the same trench coat as the patriotic American in the other picture. It was like looking at mini-versions of the patriot.

"Lemme guess, that his cult, or... his lackies? Whatever ya wanna call them?"

"Correct, and correct. I don't know his real name, but for now, we'll refer to him as ' _AWOL_.'"

Jeremy raised his eyes, "Wait, _a wall,_ like, ' _A-wall?_ ' or-"

Winston groaned, "Forget it. However you say it, as long as it identifies him from the rest, it's suitable. Moving on. AWOL over here is a big reason why the murder rates have gone up. His motives are currently unknown, but one piece of evidence from more recent findings that my agents have collected, is suggesting that he's intent on colonizing England as... well, _American soil,_ and the way he intends on doing so is starting off by killing as many non-Americans he can get his hands on — which is in direct correlation with the spiked murder rates of London's citizens... It sounds shocking-"

 _"What the hell?_ Is the man mental?" Jeremy asked, cutting him off in disbelief.

"I don't know... it's your job to find out though... Scratch that, it's your job to find him and hopefully take him out. Senseless murder is a terrible gesture onto society, especially with... _Ridiculous_ motives like his. It's a mystery as to how he hasn't been arrested yet... Oh and one of my agents managed to witness him in battle and fortunately, came back alive... _in one piece as well."_

Winston switched to another slide. The slide consisted pictures of dangerous looking weapons that spelled out _'War'_ to any man that had eyes.

The gorilla pointed the cursor over the picture of a rocket launcher.

"He fights with a handheld rocket launcher, and has a backup shotgun just in case people get too close to him. He also has..." Winston clicked on a picture of a bloody shovel, "A shovel with a edgy spade... Which he uses for bashing and cutting in skulls... very dangerous indeed."

Jeremy was kind of intimidated by 'AWOL' already.

 _What kind of twisted man fights with a handheld rocket launcher_? 

The only time he had ever thought of such a concept was when he was playing video-games, but never real life!

The fact that AWOL was probably mentally _unstable_ put him off even more. Enemies that could do the unexpected were always a tough match for him to put down.

"Dude seems mean... can you tell me how this ' _A-Wall'_ guy isn't in jail right now?"

"Like you, he's tight with the criminal network, they look out for him and he looks out for them, clearing his name out of any of the databases they try to track him on. He also has a group that's dedicated to his same motives, whatever it may be, the group is willing to give up their lives to protect ' _AWOL_ ' from death."

Jeremy was tight with the criminal network as well. He spent 6 years of his life working with the various underground groups, but he couldn't recall seeing _'_ _AWOL'_ anywhere amongst them.

"Y'know, it's kinda weird that I've never seen 'em around the streets before, considering how over the radar this guy is." Jeremy commented.

"You will soon though, as we need him gone and eliminated from the picture... Moving on," Winston closed the files and switched onto the picture of the next individual.

"Umm, this... _Thing_ , may disturb you a little..." The gorilla nervously clicked on the picture with its big fingers.

The picture that appeared consisted of nuildings that have been burned to crisps. In the background was a figure that was surrounded by shadowing flames, holding _something_ above it's head with triumph.

"Whoever took this picture had some big friggin' balls." Jeremy commented, "I mean, I dunno' anyone that would wanna get close to someone that looks like he was made from the damn flame..." he paused, "... uh, except me of course, cause I ain't afraid of nothin'."

"I hope that confidence will carry on with you at the appropriate time. Anyways, this picture is insignificant to the ones I have next of the figure," Winston clicked on the next slide, which revealed the intimidating figure _up close._

 _"Oh crap. That don't even look like it's human."_ Jeremy commented.

The figure had a yellowish-green tint to its hazmat suit, which was thick and padded with its exterior material. On its hazmat suit were burn marks that had been scattered all around, some faded, and most — recent. It wore a black gas mask of some sort, the mask reached down to fully cover it's neck with polished darkness.

On the back of the hazmat suit, there were two huge canisters of what could only be assumed was ammo for it's weapon.

Speaking of it's weapon — It wielded a homemade flamethrower. The nozzle of the torch was lit with blue flames, which was hotter than the normal orange variant. The flamer looked rusted beyond repair, but regardless, it looked like it was working properly.

"... doesn't look like a nice guy, that's for sure." Jeremy looked at its mask, "I'm curious. Anyone of your photo-takers seen what's behind that mask?"

"No, no one has," Winston answered, "and I'm almost certain that no individual would lack the intellect to try something that would result in death." He added.

Jeremy smirked and raised a brow, "Think again, big guy, cause you're lookin' right at him." He pointed at himself proudly.

The gorilla contained his chuckle and shook his head at the criminal's bravado, "Again, _I hope that_ _your confidence speaks for itself when the time comes,"_ he said, "Anyways, let me give you a debrief on this... thing."

Another set of pictures popped up on the screen, consisting of various areas that had been lit up by flames that could devour.

"The criminal that are the main reasons for these pictures is unsurprisingly — the main _source_ of arson attacks throughout London. As strange as it may sound, it has no clear motive to whatever it applies its flames too. It tends to wander a lot as well, and whatever comes in its path has a high chance of being senselessy roasted — whether it be human, or flying garbage."

"Pause for a minute," Jeremy requested, "but did I hear you right?"

"Hear what right?"

"That flame-loving _thing_ just roams around — _looking for its next barbecue?!"_

Winston nodded, "Local police force have tried to stop it as of recently, but have only been met with... _well,"_ he glanced at the pictures on screen, needing no explanation for how futile the police force was against a...

 _A flame-wielding maniac._

"Right... cops can't deal with this thing." Jeremy understood that the regular police force couldn't do anything against this walking arson... but how about the military?

"What about the frickin' _army?_ Ain't they have the guns to just put this thing down?"

"The government is too busy dealing with everything else... either that, or their letting this happen, which I intend to find out."

Winston continued with his debrief, "Moving onto the actual arson attacks... it seems to do this randomly — anywhere, anytime. My investigators theorized that it might have something to do with the weather being too cold for it's well-being and, _desperate_ on a way to get warmer, it decided to make flames out of the populace... but luckily..."

Winston paused, and showed the next set of slides. It was pictures of firefighters and citizens standing around buildings that have been put out with water, "the department's firefighters have managed to clear out the affected areas of arson effectively. Good thing it doesn't stick to one place. Onto the next piece of info, these arson attacks were _recent,_ and quite honestly, _weren't expected by anyone._ As you can see in the pictures, the damage had already been dealt in a short span of time, and as I said earlier — the motives are unknown. Seems to commit arson on will, for itself, and no one else..." The gorilla shifted his glance to Jeremy, _"... that's when you come into play."_

The criminal gulped at the task, "Uhh, taking care of it, you mean. Right?" He asked.

"Hmm... _you don't exactly sound confident._ What happened, Jeremy?"

"What?!" Jeremy asked, baffled. He immediately refilled his bravado, catching his natural swagger back into act, "Of course I'm confident! I'll make sure that thing gets a closed casket in the ugly cemetery, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Mhm, indeed I do."

"Besides, I ain't a big fan of fire anyways. Stuff's hot!"

"As with me." Winston agreed. He departed from his chair and walked on his four limbs to some file cabinets that were nearby.

Jeremy watched on in slight terror. Seeing the massive muscles beneath the gorilla's wrists, as he could just imagine the sheer strength of it trapping him in this small room. He believed he could outmaneuver the gorilla, _but for how long?_

As Winston opened the cabinets, he suddenly pulled out a device. It was a smartphone, _but smarter._ On the back of the device was the same symbol that he had caught sight of two times earlier.

"Hey, Winston?"

"Hm?"

"What's that symbol supposed to mean?" Jeremy pointed at the back of the device, "Looks really frickin' cool by the way." He added.

"Glad you think so. This is the symbol of 'Overwatch' — A symbol that people will start to respect and look up to once you're done helping us."

"Well, to whoever drew that thing up, tell them to start making some comics. Their drawings could probably make me get back into reading a bit."

"Comics?" Winston raised a brow, "I prefer atlases and books filled with facts and oddities."

Jeremy imitated a man vomiting.

 _"Bleh!_ You sound like a teacher! A high-school teacher, actually... screw high-school."

"Why? High School is an important journey for maturing teenagers."

"High School ain't nothin' but trouble. It's meant for frickin' snobs who end up slaving their life at a job they fucking hate." Jeremy said, his facial features considerably lowered.

Instantly, Winston knew that the topic of High School had triggered _something_ within Jeremy that caused him to become irritated. The conversation was heading down an undesirable turn, and Winston steered away from it — quickly changing the topic.

"Enough chat, you have a job to do."

Jeremy shook himself out of the terrible flashback that he was about to experience, "Right." He stood up from his chair.

"Take this device." Winston held the smartphone in front of Jeremy, gesturing at him to take it.

He took the smartphone from Winston's hairy hands, feeling the thin strands of his animal hair wind against his smooth fingers, "Just to let ya know, I already have a smartphone at home, so-"

"Incompetent compared to the one I just gave you." Winston interrupted.

His brow dipped, _"What?"_

"The software and hardware are further advanced than the widely produced ones. Anyways, this is the device that you will use to report anything of valuable information to me. Turn it on."

Since Jeremy had a smartphone already, he knew how to turn it on, his smartphone kind of similar to the one provided to him. "Is it touch based, or some crap like that?"

"Yes, place your finger on the button and it will automatically unlock whenever-"

"Yeah yeah, I know how smartphones work." Jeremy cut him off and placed his finger over the button.

The phone switched view to the home screen, where 4 apps were present.

The home screen was terribly bland. A plain black background layered behind the apps themselves. Jeremy was not liking the smartphone so far.

"Winston... damn, does it have to be so boring?"

"Hm? I'm afraid I don't understand your concern, care to elaborate?" The gorilla asked.

"Ah- forget it." Jeremy examined the smartphone even further.

The 4 apps were all on the home screen.

There was a camera app, a messaging app, a calling app, and probably the most _important_ for Jeremy, _the app which allowed access to the **internet** , and his various criminal connections._

He swiped left and right on the main screen to see if there were anymore apps on the device, but the screen didn't nudge, only staying on one screen with the four apps.

Only one app was seeming to be essential to him.

"This is not to be used irresponsibly, Jeremy. Only use it when _needed,_ like collecting evidence and information that will prove useful for the endavours of Overwatch. Only use the camera app for taking pictures or videos of anything that I should be aware of. Use the messaging app to-"

"OKAY, I GET IT. Damn, I ain't stupid."

"Apologies. Let me tell you though, the browser app works bit differently from other smartphones."

"Don't sweat it, Winston. As long as I can watch porn and ViewTube — then it don't matter how it work."

Winston rolled his eyes at the criminal's explicit hobby.

 _"... that wasn't necessary to know, Jeremy..._ but, moving on... may you open the browser app?"

Jeremy tapped on the virtual app, and a blank page with a search bar appeared.

"Cool. It's a homepage. That all you had to show me?"

"Jeremy. Patience. Please practice it." Winston requested.

He only smirked in response.

"... I have bookmarked a page that's only visible to this device. To access it, tap on the side-feature with the three lines."

He tapped on the feature, and a multitude of options appeared for him. Options such as 'History', 'Tab Manager' and 'Bookmarks'. There were many unorthodox labels that caught his eye, but one especially stood out to him...

 _'Change Network'._

"I don't get it. What does this one mean?" He pointed to the 'change network' option.

"Self-explanatory. In simple terms; it changes the side of the internet that one is on, those sides being the public domain, and our very own private domain." He cleared his throat, "But uh... do be careful to not switch to the... _graphic ones."_ He warned.

Jeremy knew exactly what Winston was referring to, because he was indirectly associated with some people who made a living off of that 'graphic' network.

"In the bookmarks tab, there is a site that tracks any criminal activity throughout London, and London _specifically._ For example, if 'AWOL' was to go down, once the news would report it, the website would automatically update, scanning for a picture or a video clip of the criminal dead, or either apprehended. And with that said, it covers everything so far." Winston finished.

"Cool."

"Jeremy."

"'Sup?"

"... Use the Internet wisely please." Winston requested.

"Pfffft! Whaddya mean, Winston! I. Am so responsible when it comes to using the internet, you don't even know!" Jeremy reassured.

Winston didn't buy it. He continued to hold an unimpressed stareoff with the criminal.

Jeremy sighed as his stance lowered, "Alright, fine fine. Ya made your point.

Winston smiled, "Good. You can put it in your pockets now."

Jeremy nodded and slid the device inside, "What next?"

"Now, you decide which of these dangerous individuals you want to take down first." Winston answered.

Without hesitation, Jeremy answered, _'A-Wall'._

"Good... now for the next part..."

Winston slightly paused his sentence, as if he was hesitant to reveal the next part.

Jeremy furrowed a brow, _"... well? What's the next part?"_

"... I'll have to pair you up with someone to accompany you on the majority of the missions I'll be sending you out on."

"Oh, easy. Just make sure it ain't that frickin' short-haired chick and I'll be as happy as a deadbeat dad."

Winston didn't reply, causing suspicion to stir within Jeremy.

 _"Uhh... earth to Winston?"_ He snapped a finger, "Did ya hear me? Don't think of pairin' me up with her. _I **really** don't like her."_

The woman he was referring to was undoubtedly _Tracer — the woman who had outpaced him when it came to situational thinking._

He did not like _Tracer._

She outdone him.

She was a coward.

She had no real skill.

She got him into this mess.

She has an irritating voice.

She has hair that is equivalent to a warped bush.

She had an accent that he just wanted to _throw_ into the pits of-

He did not like _Tracer._

But it was unknown whether it was pure hate for all of the reasons, except 1 reason — _she had successfully outdone him._

His ego took a huge toll when she held the pistol to his face. For the first time in a _long time,_ he felt **humbled** in that very moment. To be bested by another person and to know what true defeat is... _That rarely happened to him_ , and the only people that managed to best him in something he was good at was...

 _No one._

Tracer was the first person to beat him at something he was good at... _A chase._ A competition for who was better at skill — specifically, _speed and quickness._

Regardless of equipment or technology, _his skills proved to be no match for Tracer's._

 _It irritated him to the point where it was like an annoying plague in his mind._

Meanwhile, Winston still had yet to reply to the criminal's plea.

With a sigh that was anxious, Jeremy decided to move forward, "... I'm guessing ya heard me."

Winston nodded, "Mhm. We have to get you back to London, so you can continue on with your mission."

Winston went in a sub-room to Jeremy's left, the sliding doors opening at his presence, "Come, your confiscated items are kept in the corner of this room, and try not to pull any weapons out until you reach London, the soldiers at this Watchpoint are on high alert — _especially_ to individuals like you, so keep that in mind when your fingers feel tempted to grip murder. Gather your equipment and I'll walk you to the Dropship that'll be taking you back to London."

Jeremy almost forgot about his duffle bag.

The sudden blast of information had his mind blocked. He hoped everything was still where it was, _especially the pictures of his Mother._

"Fine. This'll just take a minute." He notified.

Winston nodded in return and allowed him to enter the small room. He saw his duffel bag in the corner and unzipped it.

Though he should've expected it to happen — he was shocked that his stolen goods were removed from the bag, _"Damn! All of it's gone... but what else can I expect from an annoying 'goodie two-shoes' like her?"_ He huffed and continued rummaging through his bag.

He would be beyond pissed if Tracer took any of his personal belongings away from him. It would just give him more of a reason to hate her.

He rummaged the side pockets of the duffel bag to see that everything was still in place, the photos and notes, his weapons, his whacky soda cans — nothing seemed to be touched by her.

He zipped the duffel bag and strapped it onto his back, "Alright, I'm ready."

"Hmm, I almost forgot. Come to the monitor." Winston opened the monitor again and opened a program of some sort, the program was a picture of a huge dollar sign, something that Jeremy had grown fond of.

 _A very attractive number was shown on screen..._

_5'000'000_

Jeremy raised a brow.

 _"Damn. That's a lotta' cash."_

Winston nodded, "Mhm."

"Guessin' that's all mine if I do good on this job then, right?"

"Yes. Think of it as an extra incentive to help us out."

Jeremy smirked, "Deal."

"Good. Follow me."

Jeremy followed. He wasn't one to turn down reward money, especially when it was a huge payout of over a million... so maybe offering his services to this 'Overwatch' group would actually prove beneficial for him.

 ** _x_**

Winston and Jeremy finally walked out the doors of the dim room. It was dawn, and the the sun shone proudly on the cliffs that surrounded the Watchpoint.

The first thing that Jeremy saw however, were the many soldiers equipped with rifles that he hadn't seen before. The majority of the soldiers were stationed up top on the structures, and thanks to his pristine vision, he could see that the soldiers without helmets were giving him questionable glances, others gave him dirty looks.

He felt like a stranger among the sight of these good-hearted soldiers.

"What you see right now, Jeremy — is only the beginning. As time goes on, I will recall former Overwatch agents to this Watchpoint, and from there on, we'll fight the good fight..." Winston gave him a side glance, _you're a part of something special now, Jeremy. Believe me."_

Jeremy only nodded in response, not too concerned for the endavours of Overwatch.

The pair continued walking towards the landing pad, where a dropship was awaiting Jeremy.

"... It may only be temporary, but you're doing a good thing, helping Overwatch out. It's what _heroes_ do."

Jeremy instantly cringed at the _'H'_ word. "Nah. Don't call me that. Ain't a hero at all, Winston." He said.

Winston chuckled lightly, "Maybe that'll change as time goes on."

"Doubt it."

The pair reached a landing pad that parked one of the many airships that seemed to be scattered around the Watchpoint.

Winston briefed the Overwatch pilot on where to drop off Jeremy for his first mission, and walked back to him.

"Sit down and get comfortable. The pilot's going to get you to the location."

Jeremy opened the passenger's door and took a seat, giving the pilot one quick glance before looking at the control panel in front. There was a lot of buttons, but the panel looked sleek and easy to understand, even if he wasn't anything remotely close to a pilot.

The operator started up the airship, which was apparent because of the low-humming sound that waved in the air. As all of this was happening, Jeremy tried to take in the situation at hand. He took in what he had just seen, what he had just experienced, what he agreed to and- _basically_ everything that has happened in the span of what was probably 5-7 hours.

He was working for a group that identified as _'Overwatch'._ Whether they were a group, or something bigger than that, he wasn't sure yet, but he did know that if his boss caught wind of this, there'd be a legitimate concern. And if he did help in this 'job' of theirs, then he'd be indirectly harming the influence that his boss has over a large portion of the city. 

He learned that animals could indeed _talk,_ and have the capability to offer huge amounts of money if a job was finished...

... He definitely hated Tracer.

He felt- no, **knew** , that Tracer was responsible for all of this, and to make things worse, Winston mentioned he would be paired up with another operative during his time on this 'job', but who was it going to be?

 _If his partner was indeed meant to be that girl, he would instantly start scheming on revenge..._

Jeremy took a breath and rubbed at his temple, preparing for the ride.

"Hope you're ready for a ride, airhead." The pilot said.

"Sure, whatever ya say. Just don't go crashin' into the water will ya? It'd be a pretty crappy way to go out." Jeremy replied.

"Tell you what - why don't you lay your head back in the chair and close your eyes. Catch up on some sleep, so that way you won't have to think about crashing into a sea of blue." The pilot suggested.

"Hm... not a bad idea," Jeremy tipped the front of his cap over his eyes, "wake me up when we get there. I'm just gonna take a quick nap... it's been a long frickin' day." He crossed his arms as he laid his head back into the seat, closing his eyes and keeping a steady pace of breath as the airship lifted off the ground. He tried to dose off as quickly as he could despite the sounds of takeoff flooding his ears... and little did he know, that this was the official start of an unforgettable experience.

 ** _x_**

 ** _*Back at Watchpoint Gibraltar*_**

Winston turned his super computer back on, deciding to contact one of his beloved friends. He waited for her to pick up, and almost instantly, the woman answered.

 _"'Ello?"_ A heavily British accent spoke.

"Morning, Lena. It's Winston."

"Winston! What's the news today love?" Lena asked, almost squealing her beloved gorilla's name.

"I'm tasking one of our new agents with taking down one of the criminal 'masterminds'. Codename: 'AWOL', if you remember."

 _"Him? The bloke who's trying to merge America with gorgeous London?"_

"Precisely." Winston confirmed.

"Oh, barmy. Hopefully you chose the right person for the job." Quickly, the curious side of her sprang into play, "With that being said — _who is it?"_ She asked.

"Jeremy. The criminal who I asked of you to detain last night." He answered, not trying to hide it at all.

Time seemed to slow down for Lena as soon as Winston mentioned him. As if on cue, flashbacks of last night's encounter with him played in her mind - the parts that she _didn't_ want to remember, at least... _though not the whole encounter._

She laughed, not for the sole purpose of laughing, but because she was in disbelief.

"Hah! Sod off, Winston! You're doing this because he's expendable, aren't you?" She asked, not convinced that Winston actually — _genuinely_ — believed in Jeremy succeeding in taking down 'AWOL'.

"No. Quite the opposite actually. I'm doing this because I believe that Jeremy can pull it off - the elimination of a maniac, and mass criminal."

"Pfft, _please, Winston._ I doubt that he's gonna hold true to his goal. _He's nothing but criminal_ scum that lives off of deceit and whatnot. Who's to say that he might even take arms with his criminal buddies that spread rampage through the city, huh?" She complained, which was a very reasonable argument she had for someone that was indirectly an accomplice for these spearheads.

Winston did think about it. What if Jeremy turned his back on their cause at the snap of a finger? He wasn't exactly a good guy, and could the same be said about his heart? His intentions? But with very little to work with, and the lack of pure talent - it was a chance that Winston felt like he needed to take.

 _"If he does turn rebel... then I have full confidence that you will be able to put him down."_ Winston said.

Lena had no trouble with putting him down (well, almost), especially after last night.

"Oh trust me, Winston. It's not actually _him_ I'm worried about - _well maybe a bit -_ but, it's more for his buddies!" She said, "What if I get caught between a sandwich of sorts, wacky psychos on one side and an idiot who can run on the other?"

"Immediate support will be headed your way, but I doubt that there'll be little need for that, considering everything you have survived so far." Winston said.

"Oh, Winston. Always boosting up my ego at the correct times... goodness knows I could use it," she sighed, "... why would someone like _him_ ever agree to doing this?"

"I feel that he has had a change of heart." Winston answered.

She scoffed, "I really _doubt_ that it happened on the fly."

"You're correct. Him sitting in that chair made him think about my plea quite differently."

"How much is that 'change of heart' truly genuine if he's not on the bloody chair anymore?" She asked, bringing the topic back to her old complaint of his questionable loyalty, and whether or not he would go rebel at the snap of a finger.

"Like I said earlier, Lena. I am convinced of your abilities to make it out of tight nooks and situations that others simply wouldn't have the chance to get out of. And knowing about your resumè, you have quite the knack for accomplishing such feats." Winston restated.

She groaned, "Fine, fine... you might wanna hand me that clunky chair in case I notice anything awry about 'em though."

Winston chuckled in response. "I'll be sure to have it on standby."

"Right. Just one more question before you dose off to your peanut butter, Winston — is it truly official? Am I, Lena Oxton, to be partnered with such scum on these highly dangerous operations? She asked.

"Yes. I'm placing you alongside Jeremy as a partner, with you being somewhat of a mentor on the strings of missions he'll be participating in."

Lena rolled her eyes and punched the air.

 _"Bloody hell, Winston. I thought you were just joking, but seriously?"_ Lena questioned.

"Lena, I know very well about the grudge that you hold with him, but there is undoubtedly a set of skills that you two have in common with each other, and operatives that compliment each other tend to work well on any mission." Winston explained.

 _"Winston, luv'! Do you not understand the fact that HE TRIED TO KILL ME? And you're going to suggest that me going with him is a good idea?!_ **Are you bonkers?!"**

"No, I am not _'bonkers',_ I am being honest and confident."

"Ugh. So then... there's really no alternative, huh?"

She could feel him shaking his head through the phone.

"Lena, we have next to _zero_ individuals that are willing to participate in these daunting tasks, and what's even worse is that it's the most _important_ at hand. The addition of having Jeremy — an experienced specimen that has been gifted with inhuman speed and reflexes — being on Overwatch's side for now, _is invaluable._ But not quite enough-"

"And you want _me_ to fill in the other half that the missions require? Is that it?" Lena asked, finishing for him.

"Yes, and to also be a mentor and a role model that'll help Jeremy change for the better. And remember — this is for the good of Overwatch." Winston finished.

Lena sighed loudly over the phone and contemplated the choice that would have to be made; tagging along with a murderer to take down other known murderers, and at the same time, having to be a mentor to him?!

"This is crazy, you know that, Winston? Right?"

"Make your choice, Lena."

She huffed as she prepared to say something she would probably regret.

 _"... fine. I'll tag along with him,"_ she agreed, "BUT, I'm doing this for _Overwatch,_ not him... I'd never do anything for that bloody git." She added.

Winston let out a sigh of relief, _"Thank you, Lena._ You have my gratitude for what you agreed to."

Lena smiled, "Hmph! You better! My life is basically in your hands, Winston. Putting me beside a bloody murderer," she sighed, "... but no fret, I guess. I got him once, and I can do it again if need be."

"I am positive you can manage, Lena. Now, let me send you the co-ordinates on where you're going to be meeting him."

"Send away. I'll sync it to my goggles when its time for me to leave."

Winston began to send the co-ordinates for Jeremy's drop off towards Lena's device.

"Annnd... _there."_ A distinct _*beep*_ was heard in the background, "Sent it just now... have it?" Winston asked.

Lena's smartphone vibrated, giving her dresser a small shake. Without looking, she confirmed it, "Yep. I have it. By the way, how long is it gonna take for this pansy to arrive?"

"Approximately... two to three hours from now."

"Got it. Thanks, Winston. I'll try to contain myself around him. But if he tries _anything —_ do I have permission to blast him?" Lena asked.

"Yes, but only if it's _serious... I don't want you shooting him just because he called your_ _abdomen... 'Unproportianate '."_

She furrowed a brow, _"Fat,_ you mean?"

"Yes."

She giggled, "Winston, buddy — if he _dares_ call me 'fat', I will kick his arse back to Gibraltar!"

Winston let out a hearty chuckle at the good-fashioned humour she had. "I'll be waiting right here for him if such a situation happens. But for now, get your equipment ready. You and him are going to be on a mission for the day. Winston out."

"Affirmative. Tracer out!" Lena turned off her communications, and rubbed her temples at how the day was looking for her so far.

 _"Bloody hell. Now isn't this the prickly situation I'm in?_ Bloke almost kills me, then the next day I'm forced to work with him..." she suddenly realized that she wasn't forced at all to work with him. In fact, she had a choice whether or not to take the position as his partner, but she didn't choose it.

She willingly agreed to be his partner on the string of missions.

She groaned and put a palm to her face, _"Ugh. I had a choice and I still decided to go through with it_ _... what's wrong with you, Lena?"_ She asked herself. To be fair, Winston did have a point. Someone of his physical gifts was surely meant to be invaluable to this string of jobs, and when combined with her quickness, and her ability to seemingly manipulate her position at will, their duo was a force to be reckoned with.

Maybe this was the right choice. After all, with Overwatch being in shambles of its former glory, it needed all the help it could get... even if it's help came from sources such as him.

She walked over to her smartphone and took her goggles out the drawer. She grabbed the synchronization wire and plugged it into the ports of both the phone, and her goggles. Prompting her which files to choose on the screen of her phone, she tapped on the files that Winston had sent her, which were named, _'Co-ordinates for partner'._

The wire suddenly glowed a faint blue, and not 3 seconds later, the co-ordinates were successfully synced with her goggles.

"Great, now that that's done, I have to get myself ready, _isn't that right, luv'?"_

She was silent for a while.

 _"Oh, whoops! Silly me, heh. I live by myself,"_ she shook her head and giggled at her own stupidity, "maybe I should have my own personal A.I. to speak to, just like Winston has." She said, but quickly rejecting the thought of actually speaking to an electronic.

 _"Sod it. I'd rather speak to a human than steel and metal... _well, time to get dressed." She said to herself.


	5. Second Impressions

**_Chapter 4: Second Impressions_**

"Oi. Sleepyhead, wake up."

Jeremy felt a little nudge on his arm, which caused him to open an eye, soon after, his other. It was dark because of the cap that was covering over his vision, but once he removed it, he realized quickly that the airship was hovered over the rooftop of an apartment.

The scenery wasn't amazing by any means. The usual orange dim of the morning sun was turned into a dull yellowish hue that shadowed over the alleyways and sidewalks. This was because of the smog and 'other' sources that shadowed over the air during the morning.

"This is the place, it seems." The pilot said to the now-awaken Jeremy.

"You're right..." Jeremy yawned and stretched out his arms, "... what a shithole, am I right?" He said, quick to insult the scenery.

"I'd be lying if I said 'no'. Anyways," the pilot pressed another one of the many buttons, which made the airship hover closer to the roof. It lowered itself enough to the point where it was safe for Jeremy to get out.

"This is where you're getting off, 'mate'," the pilot air-quoted, "try not to die on the first day."

Jeremy scoffed and rolled his eyes at him.

 _"You really got no idea on who you're talking to, huh?"_ Jeremy shrugged and hopped out of the airship and onto the roof. He looked back at the flying contraption and saw the sleek passengers doors close in an instant. The airship then hovered until it was high enough for quick takeoff, then as quick as a bullet, it was soaring in the sky, heading back for base most likely.

Jeremy stopped sightseeing and sighed to himself as he examined his surroundings.

 _"Wonder what this whole thing's gonna lead me to."_ He mumbled to himself, curious of what he was getting himself into. He walked towards the ledge and examined more of the scenery.

There were buildings crowded over the roof he was on. Industrial and residence alike. In front of him was a wide alley that lead to a sidewalk. On the sidewalk were people going on about their business. He spotted 4 garbage bins located across the walls of the the alleyway, 2 on each side. The pathway was gravel, but with cracks shown across, and litter around.

Jeremy chuckled, "A _clean_ dump _."_ He looked around the roof he was on and spotted a door that lead towards the lower levels. He noticed how chilly the air was when a breeze suddenly hit him.

"Good thing they allowed me to keep my hoodie on... colder than usual." He kneeled and put his duffel bag on the ground, placing his _'Scattergun'_ inside of it because what would the buildings staff think about a man openly wielding a dangerous looking shotgun as he walked through the halls?

 _No good thoughts, that was for sure._

He put the duffel bag on and walked towards the door.

There were stairs that lead towards a hall, and straight to an elevator. As he walked towards the elevator, the phone that Winston gave him started to vibrate inside of his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the words — _'Incoming call - Winston'._

He picked up the call.

"'Sup?"

"Did you make it to the destination?" Winston asked.

He entered the elevator and pressed the button that would take him to the lobby.

"I think so. Was I supposed to land on the roof of a building?"

"Indeed you were. What you are to do now is go to the lobby of the building, and wait for your partner to show you the insignia of Overwatch. Understood?"

"That means the picture, or, uh, logo or whatever, right?"

"Yes." Winston answered.

"Got it. _But hey, mind tellin' me who my partner is before you hang up?"_

"You'll find out soon, Jeremy. But right now, we must give you an alias for reasons that are related to general espionage and identification amongst Overwatch." Winston said.

 _"An alias?"_ Jeremy raised a brow. Normally, he would have no idea on what that word meant, but since he's had past clients say it to him, he had an idea of what the gorilla was referring to. "If that's what you wanna give me, I got one already."

"Oh? What is it then?" Winston asked.

 _"'Scout'."_

"Hmm... _not bad..._ not bad. Though I did have other recommendations for you, _'Scout'_ sounds like it'll do just fine, and how convenient as well, because it has correlation with what you have done in the past, according to my files." Winston said.

Again — Jeremy had no idea on how Winston managed to find this information about him.

"Sure."

"Very well, your alias will be _'Scout'_ from now on. Expect your partner, members, and _me_ to refer to you as your alias for the remainder of your... _employment_ under Overwatch."

"Sure." He agreed, "Anything else I should know?"

"No. I'll let you go now. Your partner will be coming soon. Winston out."

The phone went silent and back inside of Jeremy's pockets. The elevator ringed shortly after, signalling that the desired level had been reached — _Lobby floor._ He walked out the elevator doors and looked around for anyone that could be related to Overwatch. No such luck. Just some staff members and citizens. He looked around some more until he suddenly felt the phone vibrate. He pulled it out and stared at the screen, which showcased a message from an unknown contact.

He read the contact name. _'Partner',_ it read. That piqued his interest, but the text that was attached... _not so much._

 _'Come outside, you arse.'_ The text read.

 _"What the hell?"_ Squinting his eyes, Jeremy looked out the glass doors and saw that there was no one there. He contemplated whether to do as the text told him to, or to instead text back the unknown contact, who apparently was his _partner._

... he ended up doing as his partner told him to, but he did it all while texting something back.

 _'Show yourself first?'_ He texted.

He walked out the doors to the apartment and was immediately greeted by the smell of _city life._ Smog from the air and rust from Omnics. He almost coughed at the smell.

 _"London. Feels like it was just yesterday I was breathin' your air."_ He snickered to himself. He looked around and saw some empty parking spaces, as well as the entrance sign to the apartment.

 _"3180 Krafty Avenue..."_ his eyes narrowed, _"shoulda n_ _amed it to 'Shady Avenue'... back of the building could use some serious work."_ He muttered.

To his side was a bench with a wrapper of a chocolate bar discarded nearby. A trash can was to his other side.

He decided to send another text to the unknown contact.

 _'Answer_ _the question?'_

5 seconds later, his phone suddenly vibrated with a text that read, _'Okay. I didn't show myself first because I wanted to see if my partner was really going to be the criminal who I had tazed the night before.'_

Once Jeremy had finished reading the text, his jaw took a slight dip, as well as his stance.

 _"Ah nah..."_ he looked up from the phone and looked to his right, basically _dreading_ the sight of the person-

 _... the **lady** in front of him._

Jeremy stuffed the phone in his pocket and stared at his partner.

"I'm guessin' Winston probably made a big frickin' mistake or something. My _real_ partner would've shown me the damn picture of your group instead of creepin' up on me like a crook." He said, immediately denying the lady's company.

The lady reached in her pockets and held out the symbol of Overwatch, letting his eyes examine the picture.

Jeremy groaned as it was now official; he was indeed, _working_ , with Tracer.

"Hah. Nice. It just had to be _you."_

Even though her face was partially shadowed over by a teal-coloured hoodie, he could still remember _exactly_ who she was. He scoffed as he looked at her hazels.

 _"Coward."_

The lady lowered her eyes at the criminal.

 _"I'm_ _not exactly jumpy about this either,_ ** _scum."_ **She responded, possessing the same amount of venom that he had in his tone.

"Whatever, housewife- _OH, my bad,"_ he smirked, _"... Tracer..."_ his smirk turned into a cocky grin, "Your boss told me that you're gonna help me on some little job and since I was feelin' nice, I decided to lend a hand because-"

 _"Shut your blabber,"_ she jabbed a finger at him, _"I'm doing this for Overwatch, **not** for you. Remember that." _She growled out, close to _stabbing_ him with her finger. She restrained herself however.

He glared at her, a dangerous smirk appearing on his face.

"If you lay a finger on me, you ain't gonna see it again, Sweet Cheeks." He threatened.

Lena giggled and put her hands on her hips.

"Haha! _Excuse me?_ Call me 'Sweet Cheeks' and you won't ever be able to use that yapper of your's again, _scum!"_ She shot back.

Jeremy shrugged. _"Fair enough, I guess._ Can we get started with this job now? I'd rather be doing it then sitting around and wasting time... unless you got other plans. If you do, then make sure to leave me the hell out of it."

"Nothing I would do on my free time would _ever_ include you in it, luv'. And I can promise that."

He rolled his eyes, _"Blah blah blah—_ Can we get started with this crap already?"

"Yes. I do find it rather brain-damaging to engage in conversations with you, so I shall refrain from doing so, _Scout."_ She said, "And if you must say my name, always refer to me as _'Tracer',_ because Mum told me to never share my real name with _bad people."_

"Same here." He said, "Wasn't plannin' on doing that anyways, _'Tracer'."_

There clearly was a lot of tension between the operative and the criminal, and considering that both of them ran out of patience quickly, pairing them together was like a recipe for disaster. A bomb, just waiting for its fuse to blow.

 _How long would they be able to restrain themselves?_

Jeremy sighed and took a look at the scenery again.

 _"This place is a dump._ Why in the hell did Winston tell us to meet here?"

"Oh my, a criminal that's _boujee_ as well?" Lena shook her head, _"Winston, oh, Winston. What have you done to me?"_ She mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

He raised a brow, "Think you're sneaky? I heard you. And no, I ain't 'boujee'," he air-quoted, "just cause I come from dirt doesn't mean I gotta like it."

"Do you want an applaud, Scout?" Lena pouted her lips at him, _"'Wah wah wah, I'm whining because the area is too scary for my tastes, boo-hoo!',"_ she shook her head, "stop whining."

Jeremy felt his fingers itch for the trigger of his pistol, but he refused to pull it out. Normally, he would never let anyone bad talk him like that, but since he was actually trying to complete this job, he managed to find it within himself to let it slide.

He turned towards her, giving her a face that was unimpressed.

 _"You're lucky I'm playing nice today. I woulda popped your mouth off for talking like that."_

The tone of his voice put her off a bit. It was the same tone he used last night, when she thought that he was ready to die when she held her blaster against his forehead. It was a voice that had no hesitation or lie in it... it took her a bit by surprise. She gulped and took a cautious step back from him.

Jeremy scoffed at her, _"Aww, did I scare the lil' pussy cat? Come back here, I got a ball of yarn to give ya if you do."_

Lena's fists tightened, barely intimidating the criminal as he gave a questionable look at her small, enraged hands.

He raised a brow as he looked at her fists.

"... That supposed to scare me?"

 _"I'm gonna hit you if you don't stop annoying me!"_ She yelled.

 _"OUuuuUu. Please no! Don't do that! Anything but that!"_ He laughed out as he pictured her small hands trying to harm him.

Unexpectedly, Lena raised her hand and slapped him across his cheek, leaving a bright print of red slashed across his face.

 _"Agh!"_ His hand went over the affected area, trying to sooth the stinging pain. _Her smack was surprisingly painful._

As much as she didn't want to, _she couldn't hold it in._ She giggled at the pain he was in, the laugh coming out light-hearted as if it was pure banter.

He glared at her, facial features straining.

" _You got a fuckin' deathwish, girl?"_

He saw that she was smiling _and_ laughing as well,

 _"... and why the fuck are you laughing?"_ He took the hand off his face and stepped closer towards her, trying to intimidate her by his height, _"This ain't funny, Sweet Cheeks."_ He snarled as he looked down at her.

Lena put her hands on her hips and stood tall herself, rolling her eyes at the criminal, _barely_ _intimidated_ by his proud front now that she _knew_ she could get away with hitting him.

"That's what you get for testing me, luv'," she said, "and this is all sorts of funny because of how _tough_ you pretend to be. Seeing you squirm from a slap was pretty hilarious, not gonna lie."

Jeremy gritted his teeth, his glare turning into a death stare.

 _"Oh yeah?! Well I'm gonna-!"_

The entrance door to the apartment suddenly opened. A teller by the looks of his apparel.

"May you please take your romantic problems someplace else? The residents inside are complaining about the commotion you two are having."

 _"ME?"_ Jeremy asked, baffled.

 _And almost at the exact same time,_

 _"ME?"_ Lena asked, baffled.

The teller pouted his mouth at the precise timing of the words that have both been said by the two in front of him.

 _"... yes, you-_ I meant, the _both_ of you," he corrected, "physical violence towards a partner is prohibited around residence areas, regardless if the female is the attacker, so I will ask kindly if-"

Jeremy's eyes widened at the teller's assumption, "Got it all wrong, pal, _this ain't nothin' romantic."_ He notified.

 _"Far from it, good sir. Couldn't be any more wrong."_ Lena agreed... _she suddenly felt a warmth arise in the air, nipping annoyingly at her cheeks._ The mysterious warmth caused Lena's face to twitch and cringe slightly. It got to the point where she had to shake her head clear of any _weird_ warmth that was on her face, completely ignorant of the conversation that Jeremy and The teller were having.

The warmth seemed to have removed all of Lena's focus away from the conversation that had just been finished.

The teller went back into the apartment, letting the doors shut behind him.

Jeremy was in shock at how Lena was able to completely zone herself out of a conversation. He wished that she would've done it before the teller came out though, as it did make for a weird moment between himself and the teller.

Once the teller was out of earshot range, Jeremy turned towards Lena, who looked like she had just returned from a dream.

"What the hell was that, Tracer?" He asked.

"What?" She looked at him questionably.

 _"That."_ He said, "You friggin' froze up as soon as dude started talkin' to you. _What are you— afraid of normal people now?"_ He scoffed and shook his head.

"Oh shut it. _I was just thinking about something."_ She said.

 _"What the hell?"_ Jeremy was cringing now, "Don't tell me that you saw the future or some crap like that. _What the hell were you thinking about?"_

 _ **'You.'**_

Lena's eyes shot open as her conscience betrayed her.

"Ugh. Blimey- _forget it!_ Let's just get on with the bloody job!" She said, quickly switching the topic. She pulled out her device and showed the screen to Jeremy.

It was a picture of land that was surrounded by a horribly done moat around it. The moat didn't even include water. Instead, it was scrap, dirt and pieces of _whatever_ that had decided to pile onto it as time went on. Judging by its looks, the place itself looked like it was located within a scrapyard, or a 'dump-hole', _(lands that were meant for waste)_ as told by the various litter that spread around in the picture.

It did seem to have an entrance though, properly guarded by AWOL's lackies, and many unused scrap vehicles.

Jeremy quickly came to the conclusion that the place was a dump.

 _"Golly... this place looks shittier than you."_ Jeremy commented.

Lena sighed and shook her head, _"Scum,"_ she shot back, "Anyways, this is apparently where 'AWOL' resides, as well as his lot of barmy followers."

Jeremy looked at the picture closer and could see a collection of poorly painted letters across some wood that hung from above the entrance.

"'Welcome... _to 'America Number Two?'"_ He stifled a chuckle, almost not believing the ridiculous name for the heap of scrap that was a poor excuse for anyone to be living in.

"They gotta be joking- _who named it like that?"_

"'AWOL' himself, apparently." Lena answered.

She looked around and could see at least 5 pair of eyes on her and her colleague. Quickly, she realized that the outside of an active apartment wasn't the best place to discuss the planning of an _incognito_ operation.

"Hmm... we shouldn't discuss our planning here. Too many people around and too many glaring eyes and whatnot... let's go somewhere more..." she tried to think of any words that would oppose the criminal's assumptions of anything explicit, _"... discreet."_ She came up with.

It didn't work, as he automatically jumped to an immature conclusion.

 _"Haha... you'd like that,_ wouldn't you?" Jeremy crossed his arms, smirking teasingly at her.

Lena looked at him with disgust.

" **No**. _Never in a million years, Scout. You're probably terrible with ladies."_

Jeremy put a hand to his chest, feigning pain at her insult, _"Me?_ You don't know what you're talking 'bout, Tracer. _I am the best friggin' romantic dude I know._ Call me a-a bachelor or somethin', cause _I_ _get chicks."_

Lena looked away from him and rolled her eyes. She exhaled quietly under her breath, _"Winston, why have you done this to me."_ She slowly shook her head and began walking away from the egotistical criminal.

"Hey, where ya going?" Jeremy asked, following after her.

 _"To a more discreet place so I can discuss this plan with myself."_ She answered, looking back at him.

"Wow..." Jeremy chuckled, _"sooo... d_ _o you always talk to yourself?"_

Her eyes glared at him, _"I'd rather talk to myself than a sexist criminal, that ALSO happens to be a piece of scum in what we call, 'Earth',"_ she replied, _"... so, **yes.** I always talk to myself."_ She concluded. She turned around and walked away from him, a nerve of her's obviously getting struck by his annoyance.

"Feel free to follow me once you stop acting like an arse." She said as she walked away.

Jeremy groaned, _"Jeez. She's gotta be on her period or somethin'."_ He whispered to himself. He kept his eyes on her, and with each second that passed, she kept getting further away from him.

He began to converse with himself, _"Think! I need her to finish whatever Winston wants me to do, and how am I gonna finish it if she won't even let me in on it? I'm toast if I don't talk to her!"_

After some thought, he finally came to a conclusion.

 _He needed to talk to her in order for the job to go well._

 _"Err... *sigh,"_ he cleared his throat, "yo, Tracer!" He called out to her.

She kept walking away, oblivious to his calls.

 _"Tracer!"_ He called on her once more.

No response.

 _"God-_ _why is she so weird?"_ He began jogging towards her.

Once he had finally cut some distance with her, he called on her once more, "Ey, Tracer!"

She looked back while still walking, _"Have you decided not to be an annoying arse?"_

He smiled, walking at a quick pace now, "Eh. For now." He answered, "Can you stop running away from me?" He asked, "I just wanna finish this damn mission so we can stop seeing each other."

"Deal," Lena smiled at him, _"I'll not run from you, I'll walk from you."_

Jeremy shook his head, chuckling at her wit, _"You're so dumb."_

She giggled, looking back at him, _"And you're slow!"_

His brows dipped, _"Huh-?"_

Before he could even understand what she meant by that, she suddenly turned into a blue blur, phasing her way through the parking lot and towards a sidewalk, where citizens and Omnics were startled by the otherworldly movements.

Jeremy held a sour look in his eyes, already disliking the fact that the woman who bested him was _childish_ as well... it only doubled the salt in his wound. To be beaten by a woman that wasn't even _mentally matured_ by the looks of it.

"Didn't know she liked playing Tag..." He groaned, and began to run after her, hot on her trail.

He followed after her and ran onto the sidewalk, looking to his right as that was the direction that he saw her heading towards. From a distance, he could see the faint sparks of teal that radiated off of her figure, a trail of coloured particles floating about in the air.

 _"Why the hell is she doing this?"_ Jeremy questioned.

Shaking his head, he ran after her, careful not to bump into the denizens of the semi-busy street.

The chase was endured for quite a while, as he ran across at least _5_ sidewalks and _almost_ got hit by more than 5 _cars._ The chase lead him to the entrance of yet _another_ apartment.

With a calm pant, he questioned himself.

 _"Ho_ _w the hell am I gonna get in?"_

His device vibrated inside of his pockets. He pulled it out, where a text awaited him.

 _'Where are you, Slowpoke?'_ The text read.

Jeremy had no time for jokes. He ignored the text and called the childish contact instead, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

 _"Wasting my frickin' time, this damn girl."_ He waited for her to pick up.

A woman's voice suddenly came in from the other end.

"'Ello, Slowpoke! See ya couldn't catch up to me, 'ave you?"

His ego had been struck.

"Are you _stupid?!_ I'm **not** slow." He immediately denied, "You had a big head start! 'S unfair from the start!"

 _"Wah-wah-wah — all I hear are whines!"_

He collected himself and remained cool.

"... Ugh, whatever. Forget it, cause I need to know why the hell you ran away from me. _You're wasting time!"_ He complained.

"I'm really _not._ If anything, I'm making use of this time." Lena said.

Jeremy scoffed, _"What? Can you explain?!_ Cause right now, I don't get what runnin' away from me is gonna do for you."

"Oi, keep your knickers on, luv'! You sound like a wailing damsel!" She giggled.

He groaned, _"Fine._ I'll keep my mouth shut, but you better have a good frickin' reason why you made me run _seven_ blocks for you." He said, _"... and your laughs — it's **annoying** , so can you just keep it shut?"_ He requested.

Lena only laughed at his silly request, "HAHAHAH! YOU ARE A JEST, LUV'!" She laughed out. Her laughs then died down a couple seconds later, _"Oi, don't be so daft, I laugh and giggle when I want to,_ and it just so happens that you were the cause of it to happen." She explained, "Now, all jokes aside, care to know why I made you chase me?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Sure. Whatever."

 _" Excitement, Scout! _You lack it!" Lena said.

"'Lack it' cause I don't got any for you, and never will."

"Pfft, whatever, _edgelord._ The real reason why I brought you here is to discuss plans, just like I had intended to when Winston notified me of the arrival of a rather _unfortunate_ accomplice that I would be partnered with, which was none other than-"

 _"Yeah yeah yeah, I get it — me,"_ he finished for her, "just get to the point, Tracer."

"Fine. I brought you here so we could discuss plans, isolated from the ears of the citizens _and_ the government itself." She concluded.

"... guess we're doing this all by phone then?"

She giggled at his assumption, "Hah! _Of course not,_ _silly! What made you think that?"_

"I'm not even allowed in this damn building... _wait."_

He gulped as he quickly connected the dots.

 _"You don't... you don't live here, do ya?"_

"I actually do, which is something I forgot to mention from the start."

A ring was heard from her side of the call.

"Oh, I'm at my floor now, it seems. Stay put, I'll let you in from here."

Jeremy held a blank stare with the glass doors, frozen at the fact that he was most likely about to step foot inside of the woman's home. It made him wonder what her reason was for picking such a... _intrusive_ meeting spot to discuss the planning of the mission... _other_ than the reason she had mentioned earlier. He had a hard time believing her given reasons.

"Why your house though?" He suddenly asked, "Out of everywhere you coulda chose — _your house?"_

 _"Because,_ it's isolated from the technology that allows corrupt 'guvvies' to spy on the citizens of this fair city." She explained, _"Yes, yes, I KNOW what you're thinking right now; 'Tracer brought me to her house just so she could get some alone time with me. Maybe she wants to cuddle with me-' blah blah blah —_ **No."** She concluded. "I only brought you here for the reason of private discussion, that's all."

"First of all, I dunno' where you got that idea from," he lied, "and second, you really _that_ paranoid about talking outside?"

"Please, luv', _your mind is equivalent to a perv's... Rotten, in other words._ And **yes** , _I am_ _very paranoid of giving out confidential information outside of the safe areas."_ She paused for two seconds, "... _there,_ you should be able to come in now."

Jeremy opened the entrance door, and suddenly, the door that followed opened automatically. He went through it and proceeded towards the elevator. He was about to ask which floor he should go to, until Tracer beat him to it.

"Floor seven. Room 707, on the left." She said.

"Excited to give me directions?" He asked teasingly.

"Don't be stupid, Scout."

He grinned and called for the elevator, repeating the numbers to himself. The elevator doors opened and he stepped in, punching in the numbers that she had instructed him to go to.

As he waited for the contraption to bring him to the desired floor, he couldn't help but think that her reasoning for this was _bullshit._ Out of all the 'safe' places to converse confidential plans with one another, _her home was the only location that could suffice?_

Maybe it was the high narcissism of Jeremy that lead him to believe that Tracer had more intimate reasons for bringing him here, despite what she said.

"Oi, you still there?" She suddenly asked.

"No- _I mean,_ yeah." He answered, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just thought you couldn't be any slower." She mused.

Jeremy looked at the digital number above the elevator doors.

 _3._

"It ain't my fault that this elevator's being a piece of crap."

She yawned, _"Excuses, excuses._ That elevator is brilliant at doing its job, but yet when you get on it, it just gets slower. _Seems a little fishy if I must say so myself."_

He could feel her stupid grin behind the phone. It irked him to find out how annoying she was, and as a response to her annoyance, he simply turned off his phone and stuffed it in his pocket.

 _"Goofiest friggin' girl I've been on the phone with so far."_ He muttered to himself.

The elevator came to a stop, and the the doors suddenly opened, a faint ring following afterwards. Jeremy walked out the elevator and into the hallway. He made his way to the left side of the hall, scanning for the door number that held _'707'_ on it.

 _"701... 704... 707, here it is."_ He knocked on the door.

"Open up. It's me." He called.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" She asked behind the door.

"Cause you were being annoying?" He responded.

 _"Ehh, wrong answer."_ The sound of the door locking was heard.

He groaned to himself, _"Great. The door was open this whole time."_

"Oh? And are you implying that you would've willingly opened my door without _my_ permission?" She faked a gasp, _"How dare you!"_

Jeremy heard a quiet giggle behind the door.

At this point, he felt like putting a pistol to his head, so he wouldn't have to hear the stupidity that was entering inside of him, via Tracer.

 _But he refrained._

 _"... Can you let me in, or are we just gonna discuss the plan like this?"_ He was clearly _drained_ from her silly behaviour.

"I'll let you in, sure. But first — _the secret word."_

Jeremy's brows dipped furiously, and it looked as if steam could be generated from his head at any moment.

 _ **"Please."** _He snarled out.

"Congratulations, Scout!" Lena unlocked the door and opened it, "You said 'please'!"

She revealed her humble abode to the _not-so-gentle_ criminal. Noticing his unusual silence, she looked at his face and could tell the reasoning behind his irked attitude.

 _He looked furious._

"What's with the sourpuss face, luv'?" She asked rhetorically.

 _"Are you always this annoying?"_

She shrugged innocently, "Only to the ones I don't like, but I'm really an angel... a shame that you won't ever be able to see it. And you didn't answer my question — _why so pissy?"_ She persisted, _"On your period?"_

... as those words left her mouth, he felt genuine _hate_ in his mind, the intention to cause _harm..._ and it would've been so easy too.

There were no witnesses about, he was less than an arms distance from her... _but alas, the device that allowed her to cheat on time, was strapped tightly around her chest,_ which urged Jeremy to resist his criminal intentions...

 _For now..._

 _ **"No,** **I'm not on a fucking period,** **because I ain't a woman."** _He snarled obliviously, _"Can we hurry up? Wasted enough time already."_

"Oh, _fine._ You put up well with my silliness- _actually surprised me that you didn't try anything —_ but that's that! Make yourself comfortable in my living room while I present you this slide I professionally made by myself!" She turned around, but gasped as she forget her basic etiquette, "Oh, but _my manners!"_

In an instant, her figure phased away from him, and towards the kitchen area to her right. Some seconds later, she phased back in front of him, with a teapot in one hand, and an empty mug in the other.

"Would the vicious criminal like some calming tea?"

Jeremy raised a brow at her offer.

Her face poured, _"Oh_ _, don't give me that look._ My mum' trained me in House manners and basic etiquette, and I aim to show it towards every house guest that visits, _regardless of their affiliation with shady activities..."_

"Looks like you've been raised properly, then." He commented.

 _"Very."_ She agreed, "Oh, and the tea was supposed to come with a cookie as well, but that personal exclusive isn't available for such 'individuals'." She shook the teapot in front of him, raising a brow.

Finally, he managed to give off a smile.

"I don't get what it is with tea and you British folks."

She frowned, "You haven't answered my question, luv'. Tea or not?"

"Nah, I'm good." He declined.

"Suit yourself." She phased towards the kitchen and placed the equipment away. A few seconds of silence passed, only for her to speak up once again.

 _"Umm... are_ _you sure you don't want any? Mum' always insisted to give house guests something to guzzle down before chatting."_

"Yeah, I'm _sure_ I don't want tea, Tracer. I'm good, I got cans of soda in my bag if I wanna drink something." He assured.

The reason why Lena urged him to take some tea was for - _as weird as it sounded -_ _casual chatter._

 _It's been **ages** since someone had visited her home... and it was a boy as well._

 _The only male to visit her house was her Father._

Jeremy was officially the first male (outside of family) to be introduced to her home. She would've laughed if someone told her that her first male guest was going to be a criminal, but sometimes life works in weird ways.

She couldn't remember how long it had been since her last chat session with a house guest, as her profession required her to keep a status that was well under-the-radar at all times... in fact, one of her reasons for even deciding to get involved in the missions with Jeremy, was to renew the reputation of Overwatch's agents back into society, and with that, comes the arrival of house guests without fear of her exposure as an agent of Overwatch!

Overwatch had long been banned by the government, which took a toll on Lena's social status...

Still, she really missed the feeling of talking to an individual with a cup of tea in hand. It was moments like those where she truly felt 'normal' among society.

 _But unfortunately, it looked like she would have to wait for a more fitting guest to satisfy her wants of the past. Logic would tell her that criminals don't make for good house guests. Maybe she would have to wait for a guest better suited for a visit..._

 _Or maybe she didn't have to._

 **Maybe Jeremy was the one...**

She quickly denied the weird thought.

"Okay... time to get on with this presentation I guess." She blinked towards a monitor that was stationed on a desk, which was propped against a wall.

Jeremy sighed in relief as he was now making actual _progress_ on the job that he was supposed to be completing with his... _partner._

 _His silly,_ _goofy, irritable, well-raised, child-at-heart partner._

He kicked off his shoes and walked towards a small couch that was in front of a flatscreen TV. He took his time observing her living room. Only a few features managed to pique his interest, such as the unusual colour scheme of her walls. Vertical stripes that were coloured blue and orange, and blinds that were white.

One colour seemed to have irked him though.

"Why'd you colour your walls _orange?"_ Jeremy asked, "Ugliest colour to have on a wall, if ya ask me."

"Well, I'll have you know that it's _my_ favourite colour, and this is _my_ house. So _I_ get to do what I want with it." She told him.

"If it's your favourite colour, then why's there blue?"

 _"Second favourite,"_ she said, "now stay quiet. You've talked enough."

Jeremy shrugged and continued to observe the living room of his partner.

After having his eyes wander for a bit, he landed his sight on a frame — a family portrait, it seems.

 _Lena's family portrait._

With his superior vision, he examined the picture without standing up.

The picture consisted of 3 individuals. 2 women, and 1 man. In-between the two adult figures, was a small lady in a silky white dress, holding a small miniature plane in her hand.

 _No doubt, the small lady was indeed, Lena._

Lena's hair was much longer in the picture than what it currently was. The tips of her medium-lengthed hair curled gently just over her shoulders, giving her hair a very _modest_ appearance compared to what it was as of now,

 _A heaping mess that most likely was littered with gel and other various products..._

Jeremy was tempted to ask Lena what made her cut her hair short, but he saved it for another time.

He continued to examine her family portrait.

Her face was surprisingly _more_ pale in the picture when compared to her skin now, which was only a slight pale that had hints of a light tone. Her eyes remained a true hazel colour throughout her years, and the rest of her facial features were of no significance to him, as it had changed as her years went on.

He wondered how old she was back in that picture.

 _"Oi, where are your eyes up to?"_ Lena suddenly asked, waiting for her programs to boot up.

Smirking, he held his stare with her family portrait, "A picture." He answered.

Dipping a brow, she followed his stare all the way until she realized just _what_ he was looking at.

"Oh. My family portrait, you mean?"

"Yeah... _looks like you ain't grown taller since that picture..._ _short much?"_

Lena's cheeks flared with embarrassment, _"Hey! I'll have you know that I have grown since my teen years!"_

 _Lena as a teenager... laughable. She looked like a child._

She had always been teased about her small height, but what infuriated her the most was that she was rather _average_ for the height of a female. Actually, _above average._ A height of 5 foot 4 was taller than a large amount of individuals, including men! But Jeremy just had to be one of those bullies that truly made her feel small.

"Really?" Jeremy turned around and peaked at how tall she was standing. Raising a brow, he laughed at her, "That's not saying much, Tracer. You're still short."

"No I'm not!" She denied.

"Yes - you are." He repeated.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes - _you are."_

 _"Hmph. Rude."_ She turned away and began opening her presentation.

Jeremy snickered and continued examining the people in the picture, this time, her parents.

He looked at her father's face, and judging from his features, he had to have at least _40_ or more years under his belt, as told by the gentle grey hair on his slick, dark brown roots, and the very faint appearance of wrinkles that were barely noticeable on his forehead. His blue eyes stood out well from his face, and his stature as well. His stature spoke the word _'military'_ to Jeremy.

He was dressed to impress as well, baring a suit that would've fitted right in with Jeremy's definition of 'snobby'.

Jeremy looked at the mother's face... and he was _surprised_ to say the least. He couldn't tell her age right off the bat, as he assumed that both the mother and the father were around the same age, but this simply _wasn't_ the case as she didn't share the same features of an individual in their mid 40's.

Her hair was a silky smooth colour of light brown, tied into a loose bun that had defined curls edging out, giving her hair a casually _wild_ appearance, with all her distinct locks and whatnot. There was no sign of aging on her face. She had a pale pigment, but slightly more toned than Lena's. She had a sharp red lip balm, blushed cheeks, eyes that were brown like Lena's, and dare he say it — _A face like Lena's._

 _It was like Lena's mother was the prototype of Lena herself._

Jeremy raised a brow at the striking resemblance, quite impressed by how her genetics had been passed down.

"Hey, stop gawking, will you?" Lena called out.

He turned around, giving her his attention.

She nudged her eyes at the flatscreen, "We got a plan to go over, pay attention... oh, and by the way, I made this slide on the fly, so don't expect it to be like a university lecture."

On the screen was the same picture of the 'scrap' fortress that AWOL had made _base_ for himself.

"As I'm sure you already know, this is where that crazy patriot is holed up in, along with the rest of his goons."

She clicked on the next slide; a picture of 2 men with an American flag painted over their shirtless bodies, and in their hands were weapons that were capable of murder. She clicked on the next slide, and it was basically the same as the last, but with more individuals that held questionable designs on their bodies.

 _"What the...?"_ Jeremy shot a concerned look at the screen.

 _"Yes, I know._ Downright weird and disturbing, these blokes are AWOL's posse; mindless, pure-blooded Americans that truly believe _London_ should become a part of their land!"

"I'm guessing their dangerous then?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. They could be expendable grunts, or they could be as dangerous as psychotic patriots come... I think the latter." Lena said.

"Alright, let's go over the things we know." Jeremy suggested, "One, we know that this AWOL dude is holed up in a damn scrapyard, or something like that. The entrance to that place is guarded tight by those weird people and other crap that's blocking the way, right?"

Lena nodded.

He continued, "Cool. For those dummies of his, we don't know if their trained or not, we just know their dangerous. Now I need to know — are you gonna yell at me if I decide to pop a cap in one of them?"

"As long as it's for no reason." Lena said, _"Though I wouldn't count on it, since you are a murderer yourself."_ She added.

He shrugged, "Only if the money's right, Sweet Cheeks. Remember that."

She dipped a brow at that nickname he used for her. Infuriated, she turned around and looked at him, who's back was turned to her.

"Oi! Didn't I tell you not to call me that?!"

"Pfft. Okay? And what's the big deal?" He asked.

She sputtered in response to the nerves of him, _"W-wha-?! T-Turn around!"_ She ordered.

"Why? _"_ He was smirking at the fact that he had irked her nerves yet again.

 _"Because, luv', I don't tolerate rude behaviour, especially inside of my **house**. You can do that outside, in a damn bar- or— anywhere, I don't care — but **not** my house. __Now turn around!"_ She repeated, intent on saying that for the last time.

He rolled his eyes, and turned towards her.

"It wasn't even that serious-"

Lena, for the second time today, slapped him across the face, again, leaving a print of red across his cheeks.

He winced from the sudden strike.

 _"Call me 'Sweet Cheeks' one more time, and I can guarantee you that you won't be getting **any** help from me."_ She said, fearlessly going closer to him as he winced on the couch.

Now, under normal circumstances, Jeremy would have killed her right on the spot. He hadn't been disrespected like this in a long time, and he usually wouldn't let someone like her be the first one to do so... but surprisingly, he managed to himself from gripping the holster.

But... something other than pure willpower steered him away from touching the holster. It influenced him enough to not even have a single intention of _harming_ her.

 _ **He didn't know what it was that made him refuse the intent of harming her, and it annoyed him.**_

Rubbing his face, he shot a dangerous glance at the woman. This time, she wasn't laughing. She was genuinely angry at him, and he could tell that she was being serious.

 _"Well? Answer me! Are you going to abandon that rude, silly name that you have for me, or are you going to be tolerable for once?"_ She asked.

 _It was painfully embarrassing for Jeremy to say the following words._

 _"Ugh... next time, you should slap harder. But I get ya."_

With a deep sigh, Lena nodded and turned towards the monitor, continuing on as if nothing happened.

Jeremy turned around as well, facing the screen with a sour look on his face. He was more annoyed at the fact that _something_ inside of him didn't want to cause harm to Lena, more so than the actual slap he received from said woman.

The presentation switched to a slide that displayed an overview of the scrapyard. Along the picture were points of interest, circling at least 2 points of entry into the actual territory.

One, was the main road that lead to the outer entrance of the area. Another one was an entrance by the far eastern side, concealed and ignored, hidden upon heaps of scrap that AWOL's goons were too lazy to pay attention to.

"Two points of entry. Direct, and indirect, but both will get us into there. It's just a matter of which one to choose." Lena said.

Jeremy nodded.

Lena awaited the criminal's response, but after not hearing his approval, she became concerned. She cleared her throat and continued.

"Now personally, I suggest we use the indirect method of entrance, because less attention usually means an easier mission if it's only one bloke that we have to get rid of. What are your thoughts?" She asked.

"Sure. Whatever you said earlier."

Lena wasn't dumb. She knew he was talking less on purpose and she couldn't help but bring it up.

"Hm... so quiet all of a sudden?" She commented, turning around to face him.

"Would you rather have me piss you off?" Jeremy asked, turning around as well.

 _"Well. Not exactly,_ but don't make me feel like I'm talking to a robot... _goodness, I did it **enough** times in this empty space,_ and I needn't be introduced to it yet again."

What she had said piqued Jeremy's interest a bit.

"What do you mean by, _'enough'_ times? Are you tellin' me that you talk to robots inside of your house?"

Lena quickly realized that her tongue had slipped, and that she had to get herself out of this conversation ASAP.

She gulped at the realization of what she said, _"Er- no..._ of course not!" She let out a nervous chuckle, "I'm just saying that I _have_ talked to robots before - _not Omnics, mind you -_ and I wouldn't really wanna experience it again, because it's mind-numbingly _boring, talking to a robot and all..."_

Nothing else came to her mind, and it lead to a sentence that ended in uncertainty. She hoped that the subject would switch off of her suspect conclusion.

Jeremy yawned and nodded, "Yeah, talking to robots is like talking to a tin-can, cause their literally, _tin-cans!"_ He laughed, "Only difference is they have emotion. But it's the type of one from a guy that wants nothin' to do with ya in the first place."

Lena smiled at the comparison to a tin can and felt a giggle threatening to escape out of her, but quickly, she forced it away.

"'Nuff 'bout rust-buckets. How are we gonna get in there again?"

"Two ways." Lena abandoned the area of her monitor and walked over to the screen that the slides were presented on.

Jeremy turned towards Lena's direction. And how convenient was it to have her sweater _not_ covering over it... he's never had the chance to take a good look at her rear, but now that it presented itself to him, he was quite pleased with what he saw. The size of her ass was nicely shaped and perfectly proportionate with the rest of her body... it was such a stunning view. He found himself staring like he's never done before.

 _How could it be so small, yet so cute? Does she work out? What does it look like without the clothes on?_

 _Has she ever got fucked?_

So many questions running in his mind all because of the exquisite shape of her bosom... and he wanted to ask her all of it.

Lena, who was fully unknown of what he was staring at, pointed her fingers to the circles that appeared in the slide.

She pointed a finger at the straightforward road that lead to the area, "This is one way, which is directly entering from the main entrance, and requires us to take the road that leads there, as you can see by where my finger is at."

She turned around to make sure he was paying attention. As she did so, she noticed how dead-set his eyes were in one direction... and it definitely wasn't pointed _up_ at the screen. Suddenly, his eyes broke contact with whatever it was staring at and refocused on her eyes instead. He held an innocent stareoff with her, and not... _south,_ of what he was looking at before.

 _But Lena wasn't born yesterday. She knew what she was wearing, and she knew what he was looking at._

Sighing to herself, she smiled at him.

 _"Luv', I know that what I'm wearing isn't exactly appropriate for lecturing you on plans, but please, do try to contain yourself."_ She said.

She was secretly _flattered_ that he had noticed a feature of her body, but she would **never** let him know.

Jeremy rolled his eyes as warmth bit onto his cheeks, not even trying to weasel out of the situation as he knew that he had been caught.

"Alright alright. But no one told ya to stand up and make it known to the whole world that you have a nice ass. _A really, nice ass."_ He emphasized, giving off a small applaud.

 _Now it was her turn to blush... she didn't expect him to be so... direct with it._

 _I_ _n fact, she was more flustered than Jeremy!_

 _"W-what?!"_ She sputtered, _"Pfft-_ _That's so **rubbish!** That wasn't even my intention!"_ She denied, pink creeping up her cheeks.

Jeremy ignored her, "Trust me, the whole presentation woulda been good enough if you just sat down back there, instead of standing up with your ass turned to me and you waiting to catch me slipping... so really, _who's the real villain here?"_ He smirked, waiting for her cheeks to flame up as he looked at her with a coy face.

After long, tense seconds of uncomfortable warmth nibbling at her cheeks, she rolled her eyes embarrassingly and broke eye contact with him, looking away to the nearest wall.

 _"Hah. Gotcha."_ Jeremy relished in his verbal victory by grinning at himself, "But seriously, let's just start talkin' about the plan... wasted enough time with all this talk, don't ya think?"

She turned around and was torn whether or not to continue standing up, and have her rear exposed to him, or to sit back down at the area of her monitor... _without_ him seeing the firm pair of buttocks that she had underneath the orange-coloured tights.

Lena knew that Jeremy didn't care of what she decided to do at this point, _but she knew that he would much prefer her standing up, then sitting down... as with any other male in his viewing situation._

She was too full of pride to admit that she had been caught trying to _impress_ him, so she continued standing up, in denial of the fact that he caught her as well.

But suddenly, as if things couldn't get worse for the raging pink on her cheeks, _he had to throw another, more **direct** compliment than the last._

"Oh, and I wasn't lying. _You have a nice ass. Even if it ain't all that big."_ Jeremy said.

Lena gulped as an awkward cough left her throat. Her cheeks captured the colour of _red_ so perfectly.

 _"It's getting more attractive with each second that I keep my eyes on it."_ He said it loudly enough so that she could hear it, but quiet enough so she could hear her own fluttering heartbeat.

 _"... I... I don't know whether to take that as a compliment, or verbal harassment."_ She said, unable to turn towards him, _embarrassment_ radiating out of her.

"If you think you're cute, then count it as a compliment. If you think you're ugly, then count it as harassment." He explained, "Whatever you pick doesn't really matter to me, cause I already got it memorized inside of my thinker." He pointed at his head, notifying the agent that he had her lower body in his memories.

"Gonna be hard to forget an ass that looks better than mine... All circly 'n all that good stuff."

 _What the-?!_ Now _she_ wanted to see his ass?! This had to stop!

 _"Can you stop talking about it?"_ She requested, turning towards him with an embarrassed stare.

Jeremy did think that it was strange, how she would not hesitate to slap him over a rude nickname, but not even get _irritated_ at all these sultry comments he was throwing at her...

 _Was he doing something right? Was pure flattery the way to shut her up?_

Despite this, he felt bad for her. _Why- he could see red **all over** her face! Not even pink, as it moved to the stages of a more furious blush!_

He was bad, but not _that_ bad. Besides, he's had a good understanding on how embarrassing it was to experience a poorly timed blush, and because of this, he decided to end the uncomfortable teasing at Lena's behest.

 _"Fine fine, my bad my bad... so,_ back where we left off? Something about getting inside-"

"Yes. Us getting inside of that place..." she took a quick, blind pull at her hoodie, discreetly trying to pull the clothing down so less of her body would be revealed, but alas - it didn't work.

All of her clothes were small, and she _nev_ _er_ owned baggy clothing, because her Mother claimed it was for people who lacked the skills of socialism and presentation. Lena was young when her Mother explained the concept to her, so to put it in simpler terms that Lena would remember more clearly, her Mother told her that baggy clothes were meant for _'ugly ducklings'._

Lena was a gullible child, and an obedient one as well. She refused to become an 'ugly duckling'. This meant that she would try her hardest to stay away from clothes that were too big. With every top she wore, the smooth outline of her waists would always be seen.

She never realized the usefulness of baggy clothing... _until now,_ when she felt like it was most needed, all just to refrain Jeremy's eyes from her lower body.

Did she find his stare uncomfortable?

 _... surprisingly, no._

 _ **Not at all...**_

She was just embarrassed of herself at the moment.

Trying not to pay too much attention to her casual exposure, she continued on by explaining the information of the slides.

"Okay... back where we left off.." she tried to memorize what she was even talking about before the flustering warmth came to her.

"You were talking 'bout a road, or something." Jeremy said.

"Correct, my apologies." She cleared her throat, "The road itself is only slightly guarded, not so much patrols around as the establishment of this dump was recent, and needs more members to even come close to proper routinely patrols."

She pointed to 3 spots on the screen, where each one had two or more individuals standing guard and looking over the safety of the road.

She smiled, _"Like I said, slightly guarded."_

"I dunno' bout you, but I'm liking the road so far," Jeremy suggested, "But the other way to get in there. How's that lookin'?"

"Hmm..." she tapped on the screen, and the presentation switched to a slight side-view of the area.

"We could always go underneath the road, and around to the side, as other scouts of Overwatch were determined that underneath all that muck, there _is_ a side entrance of sorts along the heaps of rubbish... so," she turned towards him, leaning on the wall as she awaited his response, "what's it gonna be?"

"Definitely not going under some crap just to get into more of it, if you know what I'm saying."

For the first time, Lena was actually in agreement with what he said. She nodded, "Agreed. Now we just have to figure out a way to get in there without getting shot at."

"Mind explaining?"

"Easy. The blokes that guard the road aren't exactly the _brightest_ of the lot, so getting past them would be as smooth as bread and butter, provided we give them the correct responses."

"What do you mean? Like a, a secret passcode or something? Heh. That's pretty lame."

She disagreed with him, "Wrong. Secret passcodes are absolutely sublime. But it's not exactly what we're gonna be saying to them."

"Then _what_ are we gonna-"

She cut him off, "Stop interrupting!" She said. "I'm sure you know these blokes are only aggressive towards people that aren't 'fully' American, as told by their stupid patriotism that they share amongst each other and..." She squinted her eyes at him, "uhm... _you're an American,_ _right?_ Born in one of the states?"

"'Course I am. You couldn't tell?"

She shook her head, "Not really, no. I uh," she coughed awkwardly, _"I thought that you were British as well,_ _but just without the accent."_

Jeremy raised a brow at her assumption, unsure of how to respond to it. There was silence for a couple of seconds until he decided to respond.

"... Well, I- _I don't know where you got THAT from,_ but I ain't a Brit. I was born in Boston, but Ma told me I'm half French. So I dunno whether I should be French, or American."

 _"Oh?"_ Lena raised her brows at this, finding his mixed background as an interesting surprise. _Dare she say it, Jeremy revealing he was half French only urged her to learn **more** about him._ She always found people with half backgrounds more interesting than the normal.

Jeremy noticed how impressed she was, _"Oh?"_ He quoted, "Is it cause I'm a mixed 'fella?" He assumed.

"Ehh, sorta'." She lied.

It was totally because he was of two different backgrounds that she was impressed by him.

He saw through her lie, "Stop lying. I'm like, the _'mixiest' person you ever seen._ Heh, I'm so mixed, it makes me dizzy!"

"No you're not. There are hundreds of people in the world with more backgrounds than you, _you're not that special, Scout."_

"Pfft! _'Not that special'-_ get outta here!" He shook his head with a chuckle that said otherwise, "Whatever, Tracer. You do you. You're just jealous cause you're a hundred and _one_ percent Brit."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, but- regarding to your background, and whether or not you're of the west continents... _I think you're American enough."_ She said. "My reasoning for this is simple, really. Common sense tells me that if you're born in America, then... you're just American, no other way about it."

"Sweet. Now I can say 'fuck off' to all these frenchies without feeling bad about it.. but uh, _why is it important_ _that I'm American?"_ He asked.

"I thought you would've caught on by now, but I guess not. Don't fret though, I'll explain the importance of you being American."

Lena began to explain the importance of his background, not for _him_ specifically, but for the mission that was to be completed.

"You being an American means you'll have a pretty good chance at blending in with your fellow foreigners. They're idiots, murderous, and most importantly, _their American._ And you have all three of those traits under your belt!"

He rolled his eyes unimpressively at her _genius_ comparison, "Oh, I see. I gotta play 'dumb American kid' so we can get inside from the front, then take out whoever we supposed to get, and then all of them right after that?" He assumed.

"Only if it's necessary, and in any case, _it is sorta necessary to eliminate any individual who poses a threat to society,_ but they'll soon crumble and scatter off into a jail cell or a coffin without their patriotic leader, because believe it or not — _organization is important with criminal groups such as these ones-"_

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and without the leader, the rest of them fall down, yeah yeah- _I heard this before."_

 _"Really? From who?"_

"My employer-"

He soon realized that his mouth had slipped. The 'snitch' rule was very apparent with the batch of criminals he had worked for, and this applied with him for the rest of his life once he started doing runner business for them. Snitches do get stitches and Jeremy was never the one to even come close to being one.

Lena decided to press for more information, "Who's your employer?

"No one. _They_ _don't even exist._ I've been taking orders from a friggin' computer." He lied.

She saw through his lie in an instant, even giggling a bit at how ridiculous he sounded, _"Hah! You're obviously hiding something,_ but you have no need to fear cause whatever happens in my house, stays in my house."

"Hah. _'No need to fear',_ what the hell was that? If I was scared then I woulda stopped doing this a long time ago, but I didn't, cause I know I can keep my mouth shut. Even if I had a knife at my neck, or a gun at my chest, you still ain't gettin' anything outta me cause _I'm not a snitch."_ He said.

"Fine, but I'll have you know that you already said too much, as I now know there's someone behind your runner operations. All I have to do is report it to the boys back at base, and then they'll get to the root of those troublemakers."

Jeremy nodded, understanding that she was waiting for his tongue to slip some more.

"Cool. Tell 'em I said, _'good luck'."_

"I will."

She decided to continue explaining the plan.

"Back on the subject where we left off; _eliminating the individual of interest, a.k.a. - AWOL._ I trust that Winston gave you some insight on him?"

"Yeah. Patriot. Wears a trench coat, uses a shovel to kill... _oh, and he uses a rocket launcher to fight his battles."_

"Exactly! How barmy does that sound?!"

"Sounds like a load of crap, but he showed me the pictures, so I kinda believe what he said about this AWOL dude."

"Well, if you were smart, you'd actually be wary about facing AWOL in combat. Have you ever had a rocket launcher aimed at you?"

"Yeah actually. There was this one time when I had to steal some papers from a guerrilla camp, this one dude had a rocket launcher pointed straight at the tent I was in."

 _"Oh my..."_ Lena was interested in his story. She decided to take a seat on the empty couch nearby. _"_ _And what happened after?"_

Jeremy was wondering why she decided to sit down, but decided that finishing the story was more important.

"Isn't it obvious? I got away, but I couldn't run properly for a while after that happened. The 'shnuck got me good, damn near killed my leg, but I was lucky that he had to dump in another rocket after. As soon as he started reloading, _I was out._ Bullets everywhere, soldiers screaming, _yada yada,_ and then I finished my job. Got a fat cheque as a reward." He concluded, "Anyways, that was my experience on having a rocket launcher pointed at me... _how 'bout you?"_ He asked.

"Hm. I'll admit that my story's _far less exciting_ than your's, but there was this one time I recall when I went up to a colleague of mine. Her name was Pharah, the daughter of Overwatch's former second-in-command... _or was she the commander?"_ She tried to remember the details of Overwatch's hierarchy all those years ago, but couldn't quite grasp the memory. She shrugged, _"Eh, whatever._ But anyways, I went up to Pharah and asked her if I could train my evasion skills alongside with her."

 _"Dodging?_ With what? Like, your natural reflexes, or that _thing_ on your chest?" He asked, he pointed his eyes at the teal-coloured device that was strapped around her chest.

"First of all, it's not a _'thing',"_ she air-quoted, "it's a 'Chronal-Accelerator' that Winston made for me so I can continue living on this world."

 _"Wait, what?"_ Jeremy winced his eyes, "So you're telling me without that... _'Coral-Accelerator',_ you won't be able to live?"

"Sadly, yes." Lena answered, "It's what keeps me tied to this world's timezone, without it, I'll just disappear without a trace."

 _"Hm. That's good to know,"_ a mischievous grin found way to his face, "I'll keep that up in here," he pointed at his head, "for later, probably gonna remember that when it comes in handy."

Lena narrowed her eyes at him, _"And I'll keep my eyes peeled for when that happens."_ She responded. She cursed herself for being too open with the criminal who still harboured cold feelings toward her.

In a considerably lowered mood, she stood up and headed towards her monitor.

"Hey? You gonna finish your story?" He suddenly asked.

"No. I'm afraid I'm gonna end up regretting what I'm saying to you, so to prevent it, I'll just finish wrapping up things from my side." She closed her slide, and proceeded to turn off her computer.

"Aww, c'mon, Tracer. I didn't even say anything bad." Jeremy said, oblivious to his mischievous behaviour.

She turned towards him, _"No. You didn't. But that tone of your's is bad news, and I tend to be suspicious of men with that in their voice."_

"Ah, that sucks. I wanted to hear how the story ended."

She dipped her brows at him, "Sod the stories, Scout. I thought you wanted to get this job over with."

"Eh, who am I kidding, _I do."_ He agreed. He stood up from the couch and stretched his back, yawning at the same time, _"So... can we do a recap of this plan?"_

Lena nodded, "Well, first thing's first, we're going to approach from the bridge that directly leads to the area. We can either go by foot, or car, it doesn't matter... and um, _not that this question matters or anything,_ but can you drive?"

"Not legally, cause I burned my license a long time ago... but yeah, I know how to drive."

"'Burned my license'..." she raised a brow, _"what for?"_

"It's a government I.D., and I don't want the government knowing anything about me, so I had to burn it." He explained.

"... Do you drive?" He suddenly asked.

"Of course I do, but only when I have to. I am a pilot after all."

 _"Cars,_ I mean. You know how to drive those?"

 _"Obviously!"_ She smiled, "You have to learn how to drive _something_ before moving onto planes, luv'."

"A pilot, huh? So that's why you're holding a plane in that picture, right?" He pointed his eyes towards her family portrait.

She nodded, "Yes, I was quite the enthusiast when it came to planes. Been wanting to pilot one my whole entire life!" She was about to let loose on telling him another story about her life, but she stopped herself just in time, _"But first, the plan."_

She cleared her throat, "Continuing from where we left off; The bridge is only slightly guarded, which means that if it's necessary, we can take down a couple of the mates that have been posted there. But we're not trying to attract too much attention, as I told you earlier, _we have to blend in with them,_ so if anyone approaches you, just say you're born and raised in Boston or something. But after we get past the bridge, we are to go to the main compound and take out AWOL, after that — _getting out of that place is main priority."_ She finished, "Understand?"

"Yeah, sounds decent, but there's one crappy thing about it." He said.

Lena raised a brow, _"How so?"_

"What about you?" Jeremy suddenly asked, "I dunno' if you know this, but you're probably the most British person I've ever seen... _and heard."_ He added, "How the hell are ya gonna convince them you're an American? Your accent ain't gonna help ya out either."

Jeremy was right. Lena's deep British accent was a dead giveaway to her background. But something about what he said felt like it needed questioning...

 _How did she look British?_

 _"'Scuse me, but how do I look British?"_ She asked. She was unable to keep herself from smiling as she did so. She did not know why.

"Hm. Easy. Your skin's creamy and white. I seen a lotta' Brits that got their face shaped like your's. Your cheekbones stand out, your hair's brown, your eyes are rounded off and... you're super thin, you stand like a snobby girl would, and you're proud of ya country." He finished, "I'm not trying to say anything, but I've been 'around' enough," he air-quoted, "... to know what an English chick looks like, and they look a lot like you... do I gotta say more?"

Lena found herself quite impressed by the criminal's quick analysis of her... not to mention, _a bit flattered..._

 _... but who was she really kidding?_

 _She was flattered._

He called her skin 'creamy' and noticed her cheekbones... he actually examined the details of her face and she felt as if he was impressed when he was doing so.

Who knew that he could make a description sound so casually nice?

All that was needed to _truly_ make her blush was for him to compliment the colour of her eyes, which were a common brown, but only more glossy.

With a giddy smile on her face, she answered him.

 _"Hmm..._ I doubt that you could find any more features about my face, luv'."

"Actually, I could. But I wouldn't want this turning into some sappy romance flick." He fake-barfed, _"Bleh._ I hate those so much."

It was quite the opposite for Lena however, as that was her favourite genre!

"Aw! Those are my favourite though!"

"Cool. That only gives me one less reason to like you."

Lena's smile was immediately wiped off of her face, and just like that, the joyous conversation was put to an abrupt end.

 _"What a buzzkill that was."_ She thought to herself.

She could tell that the topic of conversation went awry as soon as he had said that, so to avoid her feelings showing, she quickly changed back onto the previous topic.

But in the midst of things, she was wondering why his comment had the power to erase a smile from her face. If she was acting normally, she would've replied with a witty comeback of her own, something along the lines of, _'Same here, luv',_ or, _'Boo-hoo, the murdering criminal doesn't like me.',_ all with the fake tears of course...

But she didn't. Not _one_ of it, which was out of the norm for her...

 _It was clear that wasn't acting normal with him._

 _Something **weird** was happening to her..._

She coughed rather awkwardly at his comment. _"... Anyways, yeah..._ That's what I was afraid of, them not being convinced that I'm American. But knowing that they're not the smartest people around, I made up a fake background that I'll explain to them, and hopefully, they'll fall for it."

Jeremy sensed many faults with her proposed plan, _"Or,_ maybe I can just say that you're from Boston, too?" He suggested, "... Wait, _do you even know anything about the states?"_

"Uhmmm... _sorta?"_ She answered uncertainly.

"Okay... what's our national anthem called?" He asked.

She blanked out. She didn't exactly memorize the basics of American knowledge. She didn't have the need to do so.

 _"Uhh... Umm..."_ she held a finger to her chin, pouting her lips as she tried to answer him, "Something about... _a star-covered flag?"_

Even Jeremy, someone who wasn't at all considered the smartest in the room, had to chuckle a bit.

 _"Pfft!_ Seriously?"

"Oi, I don't pay much attention to America, luv'! Don't blame me for not knowing it."

"Fine, fair 'nuff, but do you at least know your _own anthem?"_

"Of course! _'God save the Queen!'"_ She said, proudly putting her hands on her hips.

 _"Woah, Tracer._ Relax, everybody knows that anthem and I ain't even British. Knowing it doesn't make you smart, but you know what _will_ make you smart?"

"What?"

"Knowing the states national anthem," he answered, _"Star-Sprangled Banner,_ and it was written by someone named 'John'. Forgot the last name but whatever- If you at least know those two pieces of info, then they shouldn't give you any trouble, cause that's the two things that every American should know as soon as they hit the age of five... or at least, _that was what my Ma told me."_

"You're certain about this?" She asked, doubting him.

He shrugged. "If you want, I can give you a history lesson about Boston, but I ain't come here to chat." He turned towards her door, eager on leaving, "And I think we've been sitting around for long enough. It's time we get our asses moving. I'll get the door..."

Lena quickly thought of something to prevent Jeremy from leaving.

Without hesitating, she stood up from her chair and blinked in front of him, blocking his path from the door.

He almost walked right into her, making himself and her flinch from the close contact.

He dipped a brow at her. It would take a long time to get used to seeing someone who could instantly phase to a different spot in less than a second.

 _"_ _What the-?_ Why'd you do that?" He asked, looking down at her.

She looked up at him proudly. _"I'm just_ _telling you that it's not really 'chatting'._ Think of it as exchanging more info in order for the mission to go much smoother."

He crossed his arms at that.

Now she had his attention.

She continued, "The mission... well, it'll go smoother for both me and you, because if I get busted, or vice versa, the plan automatically goes to muck, _which will seriously screw up both your, and my chances of getting out of there alive."_ She explained. "And correct me if I'm wrong, I am almost positively sure that you love your life enough to not let it be taken by some shirtless blokes. Right?"

And, as if on cue, he nodded in agreement.

"Great. So what'll it be? Leave my house at the increased risk of our status being 'K.I.A', or, chat with me on the topic of American history?" She asked rhetorically, giving off a smile.

He rolled his eyes and unexpectedly, put a hand towards her shoulder, and shimmied behind her.

Her eyes widened at the contact, giving off light resistance to his movements, _"Oi! What are you doing?"_

"Pushing you to a couch. What does it look like I'm doing?" He said.

Unable to contain a giggle, she blinked behind him, now in the exact same spot she was _before_ he put a hand on her shoulder.

Jeremy huffed and turned around with an annoyed face that was simply _adorable_ to Lena.

 _"Tracer, come on now. Are ya serious?"_ He asked

 _"Very."_ She answered with a smirk.

Groaning with frustration, he walked closer towards her and went for her shoulder, but to no avail, _she dodged it,_ simply _teleporting_ to her left.

 _"Too slow!"_ She chirped out.

Groaning with even _more_ frustration, he went for her again, and again, _and again —_ up until the lights in her device started to flicker obliviously.

Lena noticed it in the midst of her giggles, _"Aw, crikey! I reached my limit that quick?!"_

Jeremy, with one final attempt, managed to land a hand on her shoulder. With no hesitation, he used his free hand to grab her by the waist and quickly moved the other one down to the other side of her waist as well. He lifted her up, his grip tightening against her hips, and to his surprise, she was _extremely_ lightweight.

Instead of cursing at him, a smile creeped onto her face.

"SCOUT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PUT ME DOWN! NOW!" She yelled embarrassingly, giving a series of weak love taps to his shoulder. As she was suspended in the air by his grip, she was trying hard to fight back the shy warmth of her cheeks. She wasn't expecting him to be this strong. He certainly didn't look muscular at first glance, but considering that he was holding her whole weight without any struggle, it made her think otherwise...

 _What secret was laying beneath his clothes?_

"Ugh! _Put me down, Scout._ NOW! I command you!" She ordered.

"Sure." He plopped her down onto the couch.

Lena hit the couch with a featherweight thud, bouncing along with the surface for a few times before going idle.

 _"Owww!_ What the-?!"

"You said you wanna be down on the couch. There ya go."

He turned around and sat at a couch himself, smirking at her from a distance.

Once Lena regained her senses and fixed her hair a bit, she straightened her posture and sent a sour stare at him.

 _"Reminder for the future, luv';_ _ Don't do that again."_ She said.

"How else was I gonna get ya on the couch?" He asked.

 _"Oh, I dunno-_ ASK?!"

"Me _pushing_ you to the couch wasn't enough for ya to get the message?"

 _"Relax now, Scout. I was only gonna toy around for some harmless seconds."_ She said, _"That_ _gave you no right to confidently **grab** me by the WAIST and carry me!"_ She complained. Despite how upset she seemed about his hands touching her waist, _she didn't find it all that bad..._

 _In fact, it felt... **good.**_ _But, of course, she'd **never** tell him that._

"Right. My bad, my bad. I'll remember that next time you keep stalling on something." He said, "But now that you're actually sitting down 'n whatever, I'm gonna give you a quick history lesson on some stuff I know about my country, _which isn't much,_ but you're better off knowing _something_ about it than screwing up on this job."

She fixed her hair again and faked a yawn, trying to give him the impression that she wasn't interested, when really, _she couldn't wait_ to hear him speak.

"Go on." She said. She wanted to say more, but she was feeling a swirl of emotions inside of her that prevented her from saying what was really on her mind. She wanted to ask questions such as; 'How were you able to carry me so easily?' or, 'You don't go to the gym by any chance, do you?'

 ** _x_**

Jeremy sat down and proceeded to give Lena a small lecture about American history, trying his best to remember what was taught to him in High School, such as the arrival of Europeans on Native American soil, the American Revolution, and the division of America, which caused a rather important civil war to take place during the 18th century.

On top of that, he also decided to share a few little facts about his hometown, Boston. A simple fact, such as the famed rivalry between the Red Sox and the Yankees, and the actual facts — the amount of 'walkers' that the streets of Boston had throughout the years, what a 'Southie' was, and the very first library that was built in America; which was also built in Boston.

He could've taught her more about General American history if he had bothered to remember more of his limited knowledge of Freshman history, but such was the life of an early dropout.

"... And if you ever run into a New-Yorker, tell 'em that the Red Sox is the greatest baseball team to ever exist, and that the Yankees can fuck off." Jeremy concluded, "I think you know enough by now."

"More than enough, Scout." She said. She was very attentive as he sat down and explained some history to her. But if she was being completely honest, she wasn't paying full attention to what he was saying. She was paying a large portion of her attention to how sharp his eyes were whenever they made contact with her own ones, which thankfully only happened slightly. She wasn't sure if she'd stay completely zoned in if his chilly-blue eyes kept staring directly at her. As a matter of fact, she almost asked him why his eyes were coloured so uniquely from the shade of blue that was shared with other ones.

But ignoring the fact that she found Jeremy's eyes very 'eye-catching', she was surprised that he was such a historian.

 _"Say, I didn't you were a historian, Scout._ You seem to know a lot about your own country, despite what you said earlier."

"Huh? What'd I say earlier?"

"That you didn't know much about American history, yet here you are, explaining subjects left and right like you were a teacher of sorts!"

He shrugged, "Eh, back when I used to go to school, my teachers _really_ tried to cram this crap into my head, and I guess it worked. And I'm pretty sure me being a Southie helped."

'"Southie'? What was that supposed to mean again?"

"It means — Awesome people that come from South Boston, _which is me."_ He pointed at himself.

"I'd replace the word 'awesome' with 'criminals' instead." She said.

"Sure, cause everyone from South Boston runs around shooting heads and arms off, right?"

 _"Close. But instead of 'everyone', it's only **you** who does such things."_ She rephrased.

He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, now that I gave you that quick lil' history lesson, I think you're good on knowledge- or, whatever that friggin' word was."

Lena nodded, "I am."

There were so many things she wanted to ask him about his hometown, _as there were with his personal background as well._

Maybe she'd ask him another day, as today wasn't the day to do so.

"Cool. Now that you know something about the states, can we hurry up and get to that damn place? Talking with you is boring, all offence included."

And here she thought that the conversation was going well between them... guess not.

She frowned, genuinely _hurt_ at his comment, though she did not know why.

" _It is not!"_ She denied, trying hard to sound like it wasn't such a big deal for her to hear him say that.

"It is." He turned around and walked over to her door, putting on his shoes as he did so, "You even close to being ready?"

 _"I actually am,_ thanks for asking. All I need are my pistols, and my jacket."

He raised a brow at her confusingly, _"You already have a hoodie, no?_ Just wear that."

She shook her head.

 _"I **hate** the cold, Scout. And it's chilly outside, which is why I need my jacket."_

"Wait. That brown jacket you wore last night?" He asked, "You talking 'bout that one? Cause if you are, you may as well stay with the hoodie."

"Oi, now _who are you_ to tell me what to wear and what not to wear?"

 _"Whatever,_ you do you, Tracer. I'm gonna go now."

"Oh fine. Toodledoo then! I'll meet you by the entrance, yeah?"

Jeremy nodded, "Sure, but hurry up, or else I might do this by myself."

"I'd like to see you try, Scout!"

Lena expected a response, but did not get one.

Instead, Jeremy left, probably fast on his way to the entrance of her apartment.

And with that, Jeremy's departure at that moment marked the end of Lena's first official _male_ guest to enter her home.

 _"Well, t_ _hat was interesting."_ She mumbled to herself.

Curious, she walked over to the door and took a small peak out in the hallways, eager to see if he was still there or not... and unsurprisingly, he wasn't.

 _"A quick one, eh?"_ She muttered.

She closed the door and began talking with herself, the subject being about Jeremy visiting her house. She talked to herself in small mumbles.

"Having a criminal over went pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself. _*sigh*..._ I so wish that I could've served him a mean pot of tea though!" A disgruntled frown went over her face, _"I_ _wonder what made him decline the batch of tea... he would've surely liked it..."_ she contemplated for a moment, but couldn't come up with a clearpoint answer.

She shrugged, "Oh well, maybe I'll ask him the next time he comes over."

... she didn't even realize what she was saying about the boy who tried to murder her just last night. She was already eager on serving him at least 1 cup of tea for whatever reason, and she was already _**thinking**_ about his next visit, _if_ it was going to happen.

She wandered her house in search for her pistols, and as she wandered, she had even more time to think about the criminal's visit to her house.

Lena... _she couldn't quite describe Jeremy's visit._

She opened the door to her room.

"Was it fun?" She asked herself.

She scoffed at her own question, _"Oh, silly, L_ _ena! Of course it was fun!_ I certainly had my share of giggles and smiles for that moment." She sighed, _"... who knew that... that criminal, would actually prove to be tolerable when around?"_

Lena's conscience kicked in.

 _'Maybe it's because you find him interesting.'_

Lena nodded, smiling to herself, "I do."

 _'Not 'that' type of interesting, the other 'interesting'._

She widened her eyes.

 _"Oh... oh- no. Never!_ That's a bloody _criminal_ we're talking about! The very individual I have _sworn_ to keep away from society! It would never happen in a million years." She scoffed, "Me and him; _why,_ the bloody universe would sooner collapse in on itself before that nonsense happens!"

Lena looked at her mirror, and what she saw in the reflection was a furious shade of pink, creeping up her cheeks as she furrowed her brows. She was frustrated and annoyed, because she didn't know _why_ it was happening to her. She always had this problem; The problem of keeping her emotions in check. She didn't know how to contain it or how to solve it, and it annoyed her.

 _Why was she so warm all of a sudden?_

 _"Damn it. I really have to stop talking to myself... especially about murderous blokes like Jeremy..."_ she sighed, _"sod it, I'll rehearse the plan inside my thinker. Might help me get my mind off that bugger."_

Then, at the opportune moment, her loud, mind-piercing conscience made 1 final comment on what happened today...

 _'You can deny all of that, luv'. But you **can't** deny the fact that you simply adored his hands on your waist... Fac_ _e it, Lena Oxton; You like how he carried you and threw you on that couch. You fucking **adored** it.'_

Lena gulped.

Her heart started to pump quicker than normal.

She was frozen in place, a swath of confusion spiralling inside of her... _it felt like butterflies were taking a long stroll inside of her._

That was the 1 negative about Lena's unusual habit of talking to herself, and that was the tendency of exposing what she so deeply wanted to keep a secret, or at least... _not bring it up._

 _"Okay, that's it. I'm gonna find my pistols and get my jacket and **focus** on the mission. No jests this time!"_ She said triumphantly, confident that her conscience would scatter away from her uncomfortable thoughts about a certain criminal named _Jeremy..._

 _ **x**_

As Jeremy used the elevator to reach the lobby, he had a good moment of silence to himself, which allowed him to think about his second meeting with the lady that bested him.

 _"She's cute."_ He smirked at himself, _"And she's got a nice ass... she's got some nice legs... and she's the perfect height too."_ He sighed as he imagined what Lena's body would look like _without_ the clothes on... _on the bed, laid down in an endearing pose, just begging him to fuck her up..._

He bit his lip at the explicit thought that creeped into his head, sending pumps of blood to his groin, causing a bulge to appear in his pants.

If he really thought about it, he would just view Lena as a body that he could fuck well if given the chance to do so. He was not intent on being friends with her, so what other use was her to him if not for a quick fuck? Especially with a body like that...

And he wasn't interested in the foolish, **childish** concept of _love._ In his opinion, _love_ was just something that's meant to last forever, but _doesn't,_ which deceives people daily... he vowed to _never_ get trapped in a situation where that imaginary feeling would play a part in his decision-making.

 _Besides, even if he did believe in 'love', Jeremy would never have Lena as his candidate for a soulmate. _

_It was that simple._

She was too goofy. She was too childish, and her personality had an On and an Off switch, which he _despised_ about women.

But most importantly, he would never go for her, because _she bested him._ He wasn't sure what he had inside of himself that brought his ego to an insurmountable height, but he had too much pride to settle on peaceful terms with individuals who had bested him. Lena, being the woman who had his life in her hands... _the power to decide whether or not he was going to die that night or not... the choice to kill, or to let him live?_

 _A peace treaty with Lena?_

 _Never. Impossible. Can not happen-"_

 ** _*DING*_**

The elevator doors opened with a distinct ring, which shook Jeremy out of his thoughts. He stepped out of the elevator and proceeded towards the exit.

As he walked towards the exit, a man about the same height as him entered the doors.

The man was middle-aged, and had an old-fashioned hat covering his head. He walked with a slow limp, holding a letter in one hand and a phone in the other.

Jeremy continued walking towards the exit, but as the man came into close contact with him, he _'accidentally'_ bumped into Jeremy.

Quickly, the letter that was in the man's hand found its way into Jeremy's.

Jeremy looked at the letter, then looked at him.

 _"'Ey, watch your step."_

 _"My apologies, mate. A bit wobbly from the bloody bar today."_ He chuckled and tipped his hat at Jeremy, _"G'day now'."_

And with that, he walked away into the elevator doors.

Jeremy squinted his eyes, alternating between him and the letter. He scanned the letter, but there was nothing significant about it. It was blank white, and had no information on who the sender was.

"Wait... _what's this for?"_ He took his eyes off the letter and looked at the elevator for the man who had _'bumped'_ into him, but oddly enough...

 _The man wasn't there._

What made the situation even more questionable was the fact that the elevator doors were still open, and the man was _nowhere_ to be seen.

Jeremy ran to the entrance of the elevator and scanned both sides of the hallways to find out where he might have went off to. Both sides of the hallways were linear and straightforward, which gave him no chance at dissapearing out of thin air unless he had the absolute power to do so. And he couldn't have gone to the upper levels, as the elevator was still on ground level with the doors wide open.

 _And he was limping as well, which severely reduced his chance at making a quick getaway without getting caught or seen._

 _"What the hell...?"_ Jeremy shook his head and looked at the letter once again, "Guess I should read it..."

Walking towards a couch that was positioned near the apartment doors, he took a seat on one and opened the letter, not exactly being _gentle_ with it, as he ripped it open.

Inside of the letter was paper with a few words written neatly on it.

He inspected it and read the words...

 _'I am watching, Mr. Jeune-Jones_ _. Do not be tempted to do foolish things that will expose our partnership._

 _Sincerely, your Employer.'_

Jeremy gulped at reading the letter.

 _"W-... what... what the-?"_

His hands started to shake at seeing his name written _clearly_ on the letter.

He knew who had written this...

 _His employer._

His employer, who undoubtedly had a full grasp of Jeremy's personal information that no other individual could achieve, (such as his last name) even going so far as to conceal it from the all powerful government, which basically turned him into a hidden man... _so long as he fulfilled his part of the bargain,_ which were the usual odd jobs he had been doing since the age of 17...

 _Six years of employment without any arguments or concerns..._

 _Until now..._

 _"Crap... what the fuck did I just get myself into..."_ Jeremy put a hand to his temple, looking over the words of concern that his employer had written to him.

The reason why this was so concerning to him, was because he had never recalled being contacted by his employer by means of a letter in his **_6_ **years of working... _other than letters that contained cheques and cash,_ but _never_ words of concern regarding his employment.

Of course, he wouldn't be in this predicament if Lena hadn't pulled a quick one on him...

Speaking about Lena, Jeremy saw her as she walked out the elevator doors. His eyes dipped down to the letter, not even bothering to look at her.

She walked closer to him, sitting herself on a couch beside him.

"What's with the face, luv'? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Lena commented.

Jeremy blinked two times and looked at her, _"Huh?"_

"You look like you just seen a ghost," she repeated, "what happened?" She asked. Her eyes suddenly went to the paper in his hand, "And what's in your hand?"

"Oh," he gulped and folded the paper into two, placing it carefully in his pocket, _"Too much questions, Tracer. Let's go."_

He stood up and began walking towards the exit.

As much as Lena wanted to ask the questions that she didn't get the answer to, she found the urge to save it for another time... that other time being _soon..._

Or maybe, if she would remember to ask. She stood up and followed him to the doors.

"Do you have a car, or something we can use to get there faster?" Jeremy asked, holding the door open for Lena.

She wanted to say 'thank you', but then again, this was a criminal who was being polite to her. She wouldn't spare him the courtesy.

"Who needs a car when you can blink through time?" She said wittily.

Unfortunately, Jeremy wasn't in the mood for any of her wit.

"Yes or no?" He asked again.

 _"Damn it."_ She muttered beneath her breath. Her want to get more conversations in with him was shot down, and he had no clue as to what, and _who's_ plan he just foiled.

 _"Well- yeah, but-"_

"Great, can we use it? I'll drive, and I can promise that I won't get caught." He interrupted.

Lena let out a quiet sigh at her plan being foiled. She could've easily said 'no', and come up with a lousy explanation as to why she couldn't use her car, but she was afraid that he would suspect something _suspicious_ about her, and him being suspicious about her in _'that'_ way was the last thing she wanted from him.

 _"Oh, fine. It's in the parking lot in the back of the apartment somewhere. Follow me."_

She walked in front of him, and since he wasn't looking at the 'concerned' letter from his employer, his eyes got to examine the agent in front of him - FOR THE THIRD TIME IN LESS THAN 2 HOURS.

Lena decided to wear her brown pilot jacket that she wore last night on top of her teal-coloured hoodie. Both pieces of clothing were slim and tight on her frame, which allowed her to slide in her jacket comfortably... and of course, her orange-coloured tights were fitted nicely on her long, shapely legs...

 _and her ass... Jeremy would never stop thinking about it. He just wanted to grab it..._

 _"You probably get a lot of people peeking at you."_ Jeremy complimented.

Luckily for Lena, her back was turned to him. A smile creeped up on her face.

"You have no idea... everytime I go out for a walk, it's like they don't have anything else to look at! I have no clue as to why it's like that. It's all very odd." She said.

Jeremy raised a brow because he thought she was being completely oblivious to her own beauty.

"What you meant to say, was that you _know_ why their looking at you, _but_ you're just not gonna _mention_ it." He corrected, _"C'mon, Tracer._ I know you know the answer to that." He teased.

Irritated, she turned around to face him, stopping in her tracks, "Okay, _Scout._ If you know so much, then answer it for me. _Why are people's eyes glued to me?"_

 _"You really wanna know?"_

She nodded, "Mhm. I wanna hear what more stupidity comes out your mouth today."

 _"You're sexy."_ He answered confidently, "That's why they're lookin' at you."

He kept contact with her eyes until she turned around and shook her head annoyingly.

 _That was the right answer. Even Lena had to agree with him._ _It irked her to know how **direct** he was with her... how confident he was, and his whole demeanour towards her. What_ _irked her even more was how she was fine with allowing him to get away with the direct compliments..._

She wouldn't know now, _but she was getting addicted to it... to **him.**_

She stayed silent for a bit and continued walking.

He chuckled at her silence, _"_ C'mon. Just say that I'm right, cause I know I am, and you know I am... _fuck it, the whole world knows I am!"_

"No comment. And _definitely_ not one anytime soon." She concluded, turning a corner into the parking lot.

They entered the parking lot, which was a decent open space with 50 parking spots available.

"We're looking for a blue four-door with a custom license plate." Lena notified as she pulled her keys out of her pocket, "Oh, and forgive me, but I _never_ go out to drive. My time is spent either inside my home or outside fighting crooks. So needless to say, I kinda... _forgot,_ where I parked my car."

"So what if you need to go to the bank or something? You walk it?"

"Plenty of other ways to get to point B. Mostly I just use my doohickey over here," she pointed at her Chronal-Accelerator, "I only use it if I know I can get away with it."

"Which is...?"

"All the time!" She chirped out.

Jeremy raised a doubtful brow at Lena, crossing his arms.

"Umm... _heh,_ well, _*almost,_ all the time." She rephrased, an innocent smile across her face.

Jeremy nodded, _"Mhm. Let's look for your car."_ He proceeded to scout the entire parking lot from afar, squinting his eyes to point out the car from the rest of the spots.

 _"Red car... black car... green car?"_ He chuckled, _"Heh, funny..."_ his eyes zoomed in on a car that looked familiar to what Lena described, _"Oh_ _, there it is."_ He began walking towards it, turning around to face Lena.

"Ey, Tracer, I... _found... it...?"_ Jeremy coughed awkwardly as he saw Lena _across_ the parking lot... _many spots away from where her car was._

 _"Jheez, I should just keep her car if she's this __forgetful."_

He walked towards her car, not even bothering to notify her because he was _a total douchebag,_ and preferred watching her explore the parking lot with no idea of where to look, instead of telling her where to go.

After some seconds of walking, he reached her car and began to examine it.

Lena's vehicle was really polished and almost looked _untouched... from the outside, at least._ The interior looked like a mess of papers, blankets, and other _things_ that just contributed to the mess that was living inside of her car. He wasn't exactly _organized_ himself, but he would never let his car be as messy as her's.

It looked like a small hurricane rolled through her interior...

He walked around her car and viewed the custom license plate she had mentioned.

 _"'CHRSLUV'"_ The license plate read.

 _"C, H, R, S...? Cheers?"_ Jeremy guessed, _"L... U and V? Luv'?"_

He groaned as he realized the phrase her license plate was supposed to mean.

 _"Her favourite two words, I guess."_ He yawned and began picking at his wraps to pass some time.

After some waiting, an irritated voice rang up in the air.

 _"Oi! Scout!"_ A familiar British voice yelled out.

Jeremy raised his head and looked around for the agent, spotting her.

"What took ya so long?" He smiled innocently towards her.

 _"You're an arsehole, you know that?"_ She said, unlocking the driver's door, angrily opening it.

"Relax-"

 _"No. Shut up, and get in."_ She interrupted.

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy entered her car from the passengers side, not even bothering to put on a seatbelt.

Lena pushed a button to start her engine. Her car emitted a gentle hum as it roared to life. She put on her seatbelt and placed her hands on the steering wheel, her face filled with frustration.

Jeremy thought she looked adorable with her seat so close to the wheel. However, he noticed that she was clearly irritated, and was smart enough to also realize that not notifying her of where her car was, was _prob_ _ably_ the reason why she was so pissed.

For some reason, he felt a little feeling of guilt slithering inside of him. To numb it down, he attempted to apologize to her without saying 'sorry'.

A confident smile made way to his face as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

 _"Uh... If it makes you feel any better, I was gonna call-"_

 _"Shut it."_ She snarled at him, "I don't wanna hear anything from you, and your lying mouth. _You understand, luv'?"_ Her brows were dipped as she turned towards him, _not_ in the mood for any of him.

Jeremy scoffed, "Okay, _fine?_ Be like that."

Lena stepped on the pedals, almost revving into the rear of a car before she pressed on the brakes. She reversed the car and sloppily, got out of the parking space and out of the parking lot as if nothing bad happened.

Jeremy however, to no one's surprise, was concerned.

"Christ, Tracer- you almost drove into a frickin' rear, are you okay?" He asked, clearly disapproving of her driving skills.

Lena made a face of disgust towards him, _"Fuck you. I don't wanna hear anything from you right now."_ She said.

Jeremy's face dipped in confusion. He was surprised at how toxic she was sounding, but the fact that he remembered the night that he almost _killed_ her, immediately made him understanding of what she was currently feeling towards him.

 _Jeremy didn't like her, but he did know one thing._

 _This was going to be an interesting car ride..._


	6. Update

Just sprucing this story up before I continue with the re-written parts, and eventually, newer chapters. No, I haven't abandoned this, I just don't have the time or the will to no-life this piece anymore, or any of my other ones tbh.

Just know that I'm still here, _slowly getting back on track._


	7. Are we there yet?

_**Chapter 5: Are we there yet?**_  


It has been a whole 10 minutes of complete silence between Lena and Jeremy since the car left the lot. They were en-route to AWOL's fortress of scrap and crap. They were eager finish the mission that was assigned to the both of them, as well as ending this awkwardly-placed partnership as soon as possible.

Lena came to a steady stop as she pressed on the brakes, alternating glances with the road and the criminal beside her, because she had every right to do so. He _was dangerous after all, and she had to keep a watchful eye on him, especially if she was sharing her ride with him with him riding shotgun._

Surprisingly, he hadn't made a move since she had drove out the parking spot, which was concerning, but relieving at the same time.

The radio was set to a news station, which Jeremy despised, but tried to pay no mind to. He was currently looking out the window of the passenger's seat. He was also doing a good job on ignoring the agent that was casting a wary glance at him every 10 seconds as well, propping his chin against his palm carelessly.

 _"This just in; Store clerk shot and killed at a Local convenience store near One-Drive and Finch."_ The radio reported.

Jeremy snickered at the news.

 _"Wonder what took 'em so long to report that."_ He said, still looking outside the window.

Lena gritted her teeth at him, the long awkward silence officially being broken.

 _"How are you even LAUGHING,_ _you heartles_ _s monster?"_ She asked, furious at how cold he appeared to be at the loss of an innocent life... an innocent life that _**he**_ took.

He finally turned around to face her, but still maintaining his laid-back composure. He leaned back at the furthest edge of the seat.

"Because I killed him almost a day ago."

She became even more infuriated by the logic of his reply.

 _"OKAY? AND?!"_

"... at one of the _busiest_ licks in the damn city, Tracer. You think the stations would report this sooner, right?" He asked.

"That's _not_ the point, you git!"

He raised a brow, "Then wassamatter' with you? Why are you so piss-"

 _"YOU'RE LAUGHING AT THE FACT THAT YOU MURDERED SOMEONE THAT WAS INNOCENT._ _THAT'S WHY I'M MAD, SCOUT."_ She interrupted, taking one hand off the steering wheel to jab a finger at him. The urge to slap him across his face was raising with each second that she looked at him. She was so focused in on venting her anger at him, that she had completely forgot about the green light above.

Jeremy noticed however. He put her frustration on hold as he told her about the concerning issue.

"Green light, Tracer. People are gonna be honking at you." He said, oblivious to the fact that she was just yelling at him.

This only made her even more frustrated with him.

She refused to look away from him, as she was intent on making him feel like the shittiest person on the planet.

 _"Oh, that's right, Scout — **ignore me,** cause you know that you're a bloke that should be locked up, and in jail, AND IN-"_

She was cut off by the sound of a honk from behind.

"CAN THE LADY IN THE BLUE CAR MOVE?!" Another honk came out, which was quickly followed by a series of more, and more honks.

Jeremy smirked at her, "Green light." He said obliviously, "Ay, you can fight me later, but let's _not_ be assholes to these people behind us, c'mon. They ain't did anythin' to deserve it."

 _"Could say the same for the clerk you murdered, you bastard."_ She muttered. If she was given a chance to fight him 1 on 1 in a ring, she'd take it up with no hesitation. She just wanted to beat him to a pulp and see his reaction to it. _"Fuck you."_ She huffed a breath and stomped on the pedal, accelerating a bit too _fast_ for her liking. The back of her head hit the driver's seat, almost gasping at how reckless she currently was.

Jeremy hit the back of his seat as well, shooting a confused glare at her.

"What the hell, Tracer?! Do you know how to drive?" He asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"I DO. NOW STOP TALKING TO ME, AND SHUT UP!" She screamed, _stressed_ at how much of an annoyance the criminal was.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut for the sake of his _life,_ because he had been in three occasions before where angry women like _Lena_ were prone to crashing the transportation he was in, regardless of who was in the vehicle.

It wasn't a pleasant experience for him to say the least... _near-death experiences, that is._

 _ **x**_

The ride continued for just _1_ minute without words being spoken. Lena had cooled down, but only slightly, as she was still partially fused on expending her vocals at Jeremy.

She glanced at him, for what felt like the hundredth time today. It was an empty road, and she was driving fairly slow, so she found it acceptable to keep both eyes on him as her feet stayed on the pedal.

She looked at him... at his composure. At his stance... the way he wouldn't even bat an eye towards her no matter how long she kept looking at him... _why wasn't he peaking at her?_

This was obviously a question that she wouldn't dare ask him. But was it a question that was really worth stressing about? And was the lack of words spoken _really_ irritating for her to handle?

Answer: Yes and _yes._

She sighed as she gave into the temptation to speak. She cleared her throat, _"Scout?"_

He batted a tired-looking eye at her.

She noticed and took it as the sign to tell him her question.

 _"Just... h-how do you find it so easy to laugh at a man you murdered, Scout? Why?"_ She asked.

The fact that she sounded so calm surprised him, but regardless, he answered her. He sighed and returned his stare to the window.

"... I wasn't laughing at that, Tracer."

 _"So... what is it then?_ What made you laugh out like that?" She persisted.

"Tracer, I wasn't laughing cause he was laying in his own pool of blood, _nah,_ I was laughing cause of how late these 'news' stations are to tell the world 'bout it." He explained, "That's it, Tracer. That's really all to it. Happy?"

She couldn't lie. She expected him to pull an answer straight out of his ass... but he sounded fairly _genuine_ about it.

His answer had her shaken slightly. He had a point. A very good point as well; how the hell did it take so long for the news stations to report a tragedy at a very busy store? It wasn't like the body was hidden. It was in plain sight. Blood on the walls, on the glass, and people were quick to report it as well. What had the news so occupied during that time?

 _"Oh... Well, can't argue with that, I guess... barmy job they did, that 'news' station."_ She shook her head, a small guilty smile on her face that just screamed 'I am a dumbass!'.

Jeremy ignored her and kept his eyes on the road, finding no more reasons to talk to her now that he had answered the question.

Him being silent made Lena uncomfortable.

 _She hated silence._

She sent a discreet side glance at him again, _"Scout?"_

Jeremy ignored her, finding time to kill as he picked at his bandages.

 _Now she felt guilty and downright stupid for wanting to talk to him all of a sudden._

Just recently, Jeremy striked a huge nerve in her when he had abandoned her in the parking lot. She knew she should've expected it out of a person of his calibre, _but she didn't,_ and she ended up taking offence from it. But the question was why.

 _Why,_ was she so mad that he had abandoned her in a parking lot? Even more concerning, she was _sad_ that she had to wander her way through the many cars of her residence...

The car came to another stop, another red light.

 _Why was she sad?_

 _Why was she being so weird?_

 _'It's cause of him, Lena rosey-cheeks Oxton! Ever since he appeared in your life, you haven't been your normal-self! Your personality is in all sorts of whack now that he's around!'_ Her conscience chirped out.

"You're right..." Lena mumbled with a straight face.

Jeremy threw a very concerned side glance at her, suspecting that she was talking to herself, and he was right. She was talking to herself.

He sighed and rolled his eyes disappointingly.

 _"You're one weird chick_ _, Tracer."_

Fortunately, she was sane enough to hear him say that.

"I could say the same about you, luv'." She responded.

 _"But I ain't a chick."_

 _"Oh, shut it. You know what I mean."_

He smiled and looked up at the stoplights, "Ay, green light."

Almost instantly, Lena stepped on the gas, "I knew that." She lied.

He saw through her lie immediately, but made no comment of it, deciding to go back to staring at what was in front of him, which was the road... meanwhile, Lena was left alone to herself in all of the awkward silence between herself and him...

 _Well... it only felt awkward for her._

 ** _x_**

The following minutes passed by slowly for Lena, and the very uncomfortable _silence_ between them was slowly eating away at her.

 _She couldn't take it anymore. She needed to talk._

 _"Scout?"_ She called out his name, not even sure of what to talk about. He gave her a side glance, and she caught it, figuring it was an invitation for her to continue speaking.

 _'Damn! What do I even ask him about?!'_ She thought to herself. She blinked twice and opened her mouth to speak.

 _"Uhh... this was just a question that was floating in my mind for a while... umm.. how old are you?"_ She asked, the first thing that came to her mind.

It was odd how he was the first thing to come to her mind.

"Ladies first." He replied quickly, leaning to the side.

She pouted a lip at his reply, "Fair enough. I'm 27 years old, luv'. Almost about three years from entering the dirty thirties." She answered, "Your turn now. How old are you?"

"23," he answered, "now stop talking to me."

She pretended like she hadn't heard the last part of his sentence, _"23?!"_ She asked, in disbelief of how much years _older_ than he was! "Your age makes me look like a fossil, luv'! I could've sworn you were at least 26! There's no way!"

Jeremy really didn't want to talk to her. He was sincerely confused on _why_ she was trying so hard to talk to him... but then again, he saw this as an opportunity to slide deeper into her 'good books'... and it wasn't like he viewed her as someone important.

He just viewed Lena as a woman he could fuck, _and nothing else._

So, he took the opportunity, and decided to talk with her a bit, aiming to make the conversation at least slightly flattering for her.

"Honestly, Tracer. You ain't even look that old... I thought you were only 19 with a soft-lookin' face like that." He complimented.

 _'He called your face 'soft', Lena!'_ Her conscience screamed out.

"W-wow. S-Seriously?!" A giddy smile sprawled across her face, _"_ _I-I mean, th-thanks!"_ She giggled, "Above 20 is believable, but _below 20?!_ Why- Scout, are you sure your eyes are working?" She asked, finally feeling _normal_ as she was in a proper two-way conversation with him.

"'Course it is. My eyes are always working. If they weren't, then I'd probably say something stupid and guess you were around the age of 27 or something."

Lena's smile was growing contagious by the second.

 _"But I am 27!"_

 _"My eyes are working, ain't it?"_ He re-stated, _"_ _And it's saying that you're not 27. It's saying that you're waaay younger than that."_ He insisted, "Trust me, Tracer. If I say something about you, then it's probably true."

"Like what?" She asked excitingly, _"Besides my age, of course."_ She added with a mutter.

"You sure you wanna know?"

She dipped a brow at how suspenseful he was being. She failed to contain a giggle as her lips curled into a smile.

"Yes, spill it out already!" She said, her cheeks ready to flame up if it was another compliment.

He looked towards her, deciding on her next facial feature to compliment... he caught a view of her eyes... how _excited_ they looked.

And now that he had the chance to really look at her eyes... he just couldn't help but realize how beautiful they were... _how beautiful **she** was._ The smooth pale complexion of her skin, the light shade of her eyes, the way that one thick bang of her hair would fall down to her cheek — and the subtle rose of her cheeks were amazing... he could go on and on if he wanted to. That's how good of an observer he was.

He realized that he was making a mistake. He managed to will the thoughts away before it had the chance to get a hold of him. He settled on giving her the lightest compliment he could think of.

 _"Ehh..._ Your eyes are _cute._ Brown eyes look pretty sexy whenever they're lighter than the others." He complimented.

Lena's cheeks betrayed her. Absolutely BETRAYED her.

It was difficult for her to focus on the road when his words were pouring down on her like this, especially when it was words that were praising the colour of her eyes, which she thought were dull and boring in her opinion! Hearing a change of opinion from him certainly influenced her smile to become permanent.

A few seconds of silence were held after he had complimented her eyes. He was confident that he had flattered her, as told by her shy smile that she was desperately trying to contain.

But alas, like a mother's kiss, her smile could not be contained. It was a genuine, heartfelt expression that made way to her face as she started to feel all _weird_ inside again... it was just like butterflies were fluttering inside of her...

This wasn't good for driving. Not at all.

He was being so direct and confident with his compliments, that she found it unfair that the source of compliments were one-sided. She decided to change that... _but it wasn't_ _ **her** that decided to say the compliments, it was her **heart** that made the decision._

 _"Scout."_

"Yeah?"

 _"I... I l-like the colour- w-well,"_ she cleared her throat, _"I love the colour __of your eyes as well."_ She stuttered. The car's speed was dramatically slowed down as she focused on what she was trying to say instead of driving at a steady pace.

Jeremy noticed it too. It was painful how _obvious_ she was right now. She **liked** him. He knew this now. He had his suspicions earlier, but this just confirmed it, and he didn't know how to feel about someone like her having a taste for him...

Regardless, he allowed her to continue.

Once a barrage of words came to her mind, she tried her best to communicate it with him.

 _"Forgive me if I stumble on the words. B-but it's like I'm staring at the clouds whenever I look at you-"_ she coughed awkwardly as she corrected herself, _"Uh-_ _uhm, it, I meant."_ She giggled with a nervous blush, _"And since blue is my second favourite colour, your eyes are just..."_ she took a calm breath in an attempt to regain some composure before finishing her sentence.

 _'You poor thing. You probably look like a wreck in front of him._ ' Her conscience said (this absolutely did not help her regain a single bit of composure, by the way).

Once she was finished taking that much-needed breath, she finally reached the end of her sentence.

 _"... and since blue is my second favourite colour... your eyes are just... nice."_

Jeremy — for the first time in _a long time —_ was speechless. He didn't how to respond. He didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know how to respond to her in the most smartass way he could possibly think of, _because nothing came to mind._

He hasn't heard words of such admiration since his teen years, _especially about his eyes..._ she must've really liked his eyes to be praising it so much.

Jeremy stuttered as he had trouble letting out a response.

 _"W- Uh.. um... t-thanks?"_ A crooked smile flashed across his face, but was replaced with sheer confusion just seconds after. He rubbed the back of his neck at what was happening...

He hadn't smiled like this since High School.

 _'What the hell did I just get myself into?'_ He thought. He refused to believe that he had been flustered by a woman as silly as Lena, but the subtle lump in his throat proved otherwise.

He didn't like this one bit. He needed to switch the topic that he had brought on himself. Who would've thought that something he thought of could turn on him so quickly?! The whole point in him talking to her was for a smooth buildup of feelings that would eventually allow him to _fuck_ her!

 ** _Not this!_**

Jeremy would've facepalmed himself, but he was so _confused_ on how the plan went so wrong for him, that he forgot how to move for a second.

 _"Hey,_ are we there yet?" He asked, letting out the first words that would come to his mixed mind in the current situation. He was _praying_ that she would forget about the conversation that just happened moments ago.

"Oh..." Lena's smile began to falter, sounding slightly disappointed, "Sounds like you're in a rush to head into enemy boundaries, luv'. Why is that?"

"Cause, I... I wanna get this over with, and I'm pretty sure you agree with me." He said, but had a slight tone of uncertainty accompanying it.

Him saying those words was like him giving a wake-up call to her.

She couldn't be tempted to make conversation with Jeremy, because criminals and heroes were not supposed to be affiliated with each other in any way.

No.

Jeremy was a piece of scum that didn't deserve any of her contagious chatter, and Lena was a righteous hero that didn't deserve any of his corrupted words.

She shook away the smile that was on her face and focused on the road instead of the criminal, the car noticeably increasing in speed as she stepped on the pedals.

"Y-yeah, you're right..." she sighed shortly after, "I just got carried away with my mouth there, Scout. Focusing on the road will do us much better than me focusing on civil conversations and whatnot."

Just from the tone of her voice, he could tell she was disappointed. He's never met someone that was so _bad_ at hiding their feelings.

But regardless of poorly covered up feelings, _this was how it was supposed to be._

"And as for your question earlier, _we're nearby."_ She turned on her GPS, which was built in with the dashboard, showing a distance of less than 700 metres from the destination.

"Don't even think I need to see the map, Tracer. I can see it from here." Jeremy pointed ahead at a bridge, which was suspended above a body of water from below. At the end of the bridge was a mass of land that was surrounded by water. On top of the land itself, were small buildings and scrapped cars littered around the area. Jeremy's vision was proven to be pristine, as he could even spot a couple of moving dots in the distance, automatically assuming there were people moving along the bridge.

"I count at least two people on the bridge, and what the hell was that place used for before 'AWOL' and his troops moved in?"

"The place was used for scrap pick-up... but only for vehicles of old, and new. A really big jet, with a wingspan of almost 90 bloody metres and a length of 80 metres would suspend itself in mid-air, dock itself to the open space of land, open its cargo doors and men would use machines to haul the scrap away into the interior of it. The cargo itself could hold about 40 rows of 17 vehicles — _depending on the size of said vehicles —_ which is a tremendous amount of space, no doubt, and an efficient way of ridding scrap."

Jeremy found himself impressed at how much she knew about the aircraft, "So basically, a big pickup truck for vehicles, but it can fly?" He asked.

"Yes, but not necessarily, because this cargo jet delivers its scrap back to some organization that practically live by the 'Three R's'... do you know the 'Three R's' by any chance?" She asked him.

"Eh, heard of it, but that was a long time ago so I kinda forgot about it."

"It's okay, cause I'll remind you," she cleared her throat, putting on a goody two-shoes accent, _"The three R's stand for; Reduce, Re-use, and Recycle!"_

Jeremy scoffed, _"Jheez,_ how much of a loser do you have to be to remember that?"

She huffed at how much of a bully he was proving to be, "Apparently, not a big one because many people still remember it." She said, defending herself.

"Then they're all losers too."

"Only a _loser_ would say that." She shot back.

"Tracer, would it kill ya to stop talking about yourself?"

She sighed. He was impossible. They continued jawing back and forth at each other.

 _"... you must've been a real pain in the arse when you were in school, huh Scout?"_

"Yeah, I was. That's why I dropped out."

"Why? So you could continue being one in the real world?"

"Yeah," he gave her a side glance, _"especially to girls who talk too much._ Man, how I love doing that!"

Lena scowled at him. That wide grin of his was what she so desperately wanted to punch... _and_ _punch again — until that grin would disappear._ But something told her that even physical violence wasn't going to remove that... _* distracting*_ grin from him.

... Goodness.

 _Now that she was looking at him, he WAS distracting. It annoyed the hell out of her._

She rolled her eyes as she gave up on the bickering, "Whatever. We're only just a bridges distance away from the spot, and right now, making sure that they don't suspect anything of us is the most important matter at hand."

They were nearby the entrance to the bridge that lead towards AWOL, which was empty. Not a soul in sight... and oh how she _wish_ she could've crossed the green light in time.

 _The area before the bridge did **not** look inviting._

On the end of a block, Jeremy could see both Omnics and man, huddled nearby a barrel that ignited a blue flame. Some were playing cards with each other on rows of poorly maintained seats and discarded couches, while others were simply taking in the heat of the strong flame. There was graffiti plastered on every one of the buildings walls, which ranged in horrible drawings of explicit images, to quotes from a bible — but widely mistreated and alternated so it would offend anyone who had read through the actual scriptures.

But there was a specific array of graffiti that Jeremy found himself eyeing more than the others.

It was an American flag, spray-painted in red, white, and blue. Beside it, were the words, _'America is everywhere!',_ which made him roll his eyes.

 _"Ugh. I already hate this place."_ He told Lena.

Lena spotted a drunken individual hobbling towards her side, making her nervous as she began to eye the red stoplight above her.

 _"No kidding. This place used to be decent until those blokes rolled on through."_ She alternated stares with the stoplight, and the drunken man that had closed the distance with her side of the car. She eyed the man nervously, unsure of what to expect.

 _"Oi!"_ The man tapped on her window, a drowsy smile covering his face.

Jeremy felt a slight pint of concern shoot through him. He looked at the man from his side. His face was unkempt and grimy. His teeth were stained and chipped. His hair was long and definitely not cared for at the sides. His hands were smothered in patches of what looked like a combination a smog and trash... Jeremy could practically smell him through the closed window.

"What a disgusting fucking guy. Just ignore him, Tracer. He's gonna ask for your money, and after that, he's probably gonna ask for _you."_

Lena shot a disgusted look towards him, but turned around quickly when another tap, harder than the last one, was delivered to her window.

 _"Oi! You fucken' deaf? Open up yer' window, mama... wanna talk wit' ya."_ The man drawled out, stumbling to one side before regaining his poor posture yet again, _"Heheheh... Ya wanna see my wanker? A missie like you would fucken' enjoy it. You'd enjoy my bed as well, lovely... no blankets, just a body and another..."_ he chuckled again.

Jeremy immediately narrowed his brows at the man. He felt tempted to go outside and beat him to a living pulp for saying such vulgar comments towards his partner. But he managed to contain himself because he was naturally laid-back... and he didn't want her thinking that he cared for her.

He hated her... _right?_

 _"Step on the gas. Now_ _. This guy's annoying me."_ He muttered, clenching his fists by his sides.

"Same here!" Lena stepped on the pedal and accelerated away from the drunkard, making a swift left as she was beginning to near the bridge's entrance.

 _"I CAN SHAG YOU IN THE ARSE BETTER THAN THAT FAG BESIDE YOU! COME BACK 'ERE, LUV'!"_ The drunkard yelled, hobbling towards the vehicle with his bottle of swig still in hand.

Jeremy hearing those words proved to be the biggest mistake of the man's life.

He looked at Lena with an unimpressed face, "You wanna pull over real quick?" He asked.

She looked back at him with a shocked side glance, _"What-?!_ No! Definitely not!" She denied, still driving away from the drunkard.

He however, wasn't willing to take no for an answer.

"Tracer, I swear that I will hop out this car _right now_ if you don't pull over," he said, "do it. Now."

She wasn't about to cave in so easily to a criminal. She decided to call his bluff.

"Hah! Go ahead! I'd like to see you try!" She said, stepping on the pedal a bit harder, "And what for anyways, huh? Just to beat up on someone that's clearly under the effects of-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, as she was in complete shock at what he was attempting.

He unstrapped his seatbelt and clicked on the 'unlock' button for his door. Just right after, he put his hand on the door handle and pulled, the strong wind from the outside coming inside at fast notice.

 _"SCOUT!"_

Just before he was about to jostle a leg out the side, Lena pressed on the brakes, the wheels letting out a screech as the car came to an abrupt stop. He fell forward slightly, while she was held back by her seatbelt.

She took a couple deep breaths as she held on the steering wheel for mental control of the situation. After a couple tense seconds, she looked at Jeremy to see him making his way out of the car. She tried to grab onto his shirt to drag him back inside, but it was too late. He was already out.

 _"Bloody- fucking hell!"_ She scowled to herself. She slapped the steering wheel in frustration and unstrapped her seatbelt to get out of the car.

 _"What type of numbnut tries to hop out a bloody car?!"_ She mumbled to herself, trying to scope out what her partner was going towards. After scoping out the view, she saw that he was running towards the drunk man that knocked on her windows just earlier.

 _"Oh no, no, this can't be good,"_ she whispered knowingly. Based on how aggressive his tone was earlier about the drunkard, she knew that Jeremy was about to give him hell. She began to run after him. As she ran after his trail, she quickly realized that she wasn't going to cut the distance in time, and so she ended up 'blinking' towards him instead.

But not even her 'blink' could stop him in time.

Lena witnessed Jeremy throwing a running fist towards the drunkard, and the sound it made was so _disgusting,_ that she was sure he cracked whatever he hit.

She widened her eyes and stopped in her tracks for a moment.

"SCOUT!" She yelled, face in full disbelief.

She took a breath and ran quicker towards him, blinking rapidly until she was finally within arm's reach of him.

 _"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"_ She yelled as she pushed him. He took a couple steps back from her push, but nothing too major. She was panting like she had just ran a sprint. Her eyes were furious, and aimed towards him.

Jeremy dusted off his shirt and spat at the groaning drunkard below him.

"You shoulda just stopped the damn car. This wouldn't have happened if you did."

Still panting, she looked at the drunkard that was slumped on the ground. He was holding the right side of his face in pain as blood seeped out from below... _the mere sight of blood was enough to anger her even more._

 _"ARE YOU SERIOUS, SCOUT?!"_ She erupted. She was so mad that she couldn't even think of a proper sentence to say. Seeing the man down, _possibly DYING,_ on the ground was really affecting her thought process.

She gritted her teeth and balled her fists at him.

The drunkard didn't deserve this. He wasn't in the right mind. He wasn't thinking straight. _Why was her partner like this?_

 _"Scout, you are a bloody PSYCHO that deserves to be in JAIL."_ She said, taking deep, angered breaths towards him.

Jeremy scoffed and shook his head, clearly thinking opposite of what Lena was trying to portray him as.

"Pfft. _Relax._ I roughed buddy down there for a reason."

 _"WHAT 'REASON'?!"_ She yelled.

"A GOOD ONE!" He yelled back, which took her by surprise a bit, "... Now shut up and let's get back to the car."

 _That's it._

 _Lena's tolerance snapped._

Lena balled her fists tightly and delivered a punch towards Jeremy's upper abdomen. There was no visible reaction, just a small _grunt._ She exhaled deeply as she stepped back. She looked at his eyes, which were staring back at her with an uncomfortable sense of carelessness.

 _"... If you're gonna punch me, do it in the car, will ya?"_

Jeremy then walked past the frozen Lena, towards the direction of where the car was stopped.

She found it hard to move... hard to do anything but think of what just happened in the matter of 1 minute. She shook out of it and turned around to yell at him.

 _"SCOUT!"_ She called.

He turned around, more than several steps away from her. He stared at her, waiting for what she had to say.

 _"You better get your arse back here and help this man out- or I **swear** I will take you in myself."_ She threatened, her fingers feeling the handle of her pulse pistols.

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a quiet breath. He slowly walked towards her and stopped within arms reach.

 _"I cracked his frickin' skull open, Tracer,"_ he said, "Ain't nothin' we can do for him."

Lena blinked twice at what he just said. To think she just witnessed him commit a murder, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Time seemed to slow down as she looked at his face... the _confidence he had to say that he had killed someone over nothing... what was he?_

 _This wasn't a human being. This wasn't a criminal. This was a **monster**._

He continued talking with a straight face, "Bloods already clogged his head in... by the time anyone gets here to help, he'll be-"

 _"You're a **MONSTER**!"_ She blinked and tackled towards his midsection, almost managing to take him down to the ground, but before she could make anymore progress, her hands were quickly unwrapped from his waist, and all of a sudden she was being held back by his arms.

Not knowing how she got in this position so quickly, she continued to reach for her partner, desperate to inflict whatever pain towards him without the use of her guns.

 _"You are a fucking monster, Scout! I hope you get booked and sent to the gutter, you bloody bastard!"_ She yelled, scratching at his forearms.

Jeremy was doing an _amazing_ job at restraining Lena away from his body. He would just have to continue it for however long as it needed to be.

 ** _x_**

After about a minute of hopeless struggle to punch and scratch away at Jeremy's body, Lena gave up with a hard pant. She took a couple breaths to stabilize her stance, and was genuinely surprised to see the amount of scratch marks that she had left on his arm.

 _"... you done?"_ He asked, barely spending a breath.

She kept breathing and pushed his forearm away from her. She distanced herself from him and took some more breaths as she stared at the dead drunkard on the ground.

 _"... why... why are you like this?"_ She whispered. It was loud enough to hear however.

"I'll tell you when we get back in the car. C'mon." He gestured, putting his hands in his pocket, seemingly uninterested in the scratch marks that were on his arm.

She was still breathing heavily. The dead body on the floor wasn't helping things either.

 _"W-what about the body?"_ She stuttered, still not able to believe the sight in front of her... the pool of fresh blood below his head...

 _"Nothing we can do now. He's dead."_ He said, with a face as straight as could be.

She took another deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time, and closed her eyes tightly. She turned away from the dead body and followed after Jeremy.

There was a storm brewing in her mind.

 ** _x_**

It was a silent walk back to the car. Jeremy cautiously maintained distance from Lena, who was most likely still furious from what he had just done, though she wasn't showing it visibly.

She got in the drivers seat while he got in the passenger's side. She let out a deep breath once a couple more seconds passed.

 _"... why did you kill him?"_ She asked, _"And I don't wanna hear any lies. Just tell me the truth."_

He smirked, "C'mon now, Tracer. You're asking a _scumbag_ to tell the truth."

She sighed, unable to show anymore anger, just... disappointment. She gave up pursuing the topic any further.

"Fine- Yes. I suppose you're right. I'll just drop the subject and continue forward." She started the car and pressed on the pedal. "My fault." She apologized after the car began to accelerate.

He was surprised by her response... and how quick she gave up on trying to find his reasoning for killing the man. He stared at her distant eyes from the side, which were focused on the road completely. And for some reason, this wasn't sitting well with him; he wanted to tell her why he did what he did. He didn't want her to be left in the dark, but he also didn't know why he was feeling like he _had_ to explain his reasoning so willingly.

"Hey, uh, I was kidding, y'know that right? I'll tell you why I did it..."

Lena shrugged in response, "Makes no difference whether you tell me or not. And I don't care anymore either, because I've seen all that I've had to know that you're a monster."

"W- I-I'm not a _'monster',"_ he scoffed and shook his head. Her comments got to him. "Whatever, I'm gonna tell you anyways, okay?"

She remained silent, still driving.

He sighed. He needed a couple seconds to think about what he was going to say.

 _"... Look, I'm..._ alright alright," he paused. "First of all, _I'm not a monster._ Just cause I killed him, _a friggin'_ waste of a guy to society- it doesn't put me up there with a school shooter, or-or a- y- y'know- _a frickin' psychopath!_ Right?"

No response.

He continued talking.

"I-I mean, _I killed people before,_ but they weren't your 'Average Joes', understand? Th-they were bad, and did bad things to other people, so that's my get-out ticket for whoever I killed in the past..." he sighed and paused for a couple seconds before speaking again, _"... Look,_ all I'm tryna say is that I wouldn't kill someone for _no_ reason. That's just not the way I roll."

Still no response.

Jeremy didn't even know what he was trying to talk about anymore. He didn't know what he was trying to prove; what he was trying to prove to her.

He was silent for some more time until he muttered a sentence.

 _"... I had a reason to kill him."_

He began to explain it.

"Okay okay... I know I told ya I was a scumbag 'n all, but I'd never kill without reason, and-" he groaned quietly to himself, "fuck. I already said that..."

He felt like he was talking to a brick wall. She wasn't batting him an eye, or giving any sort of attention, or any reminder that she was listening to what he was saying.

 _"... was it really that bad of a move wanting to teach him some manners?"_ He asked.

Still, she was giving off silence.

"I-I mean, h-he was being so fucking rude, y'know?! I just couldn't sit and listen to it! _C'mon_ , Tracer, ya gotta agree with me on this one."

The silence that she was giving him made him irritated. This annoyed him to the point where he had to spill out the complete truth to her. Unfiltered and genuine.

 _"Agh!_ TRACER! You wanna know why I killed him? _Fine!_ The only reason I got out the car and killed that shnuck' in the first place was cause he said he'd _**fuck**_ you!" He revealed. "I know I said I hate you- _I STILL hate you-_ But I'm not a complete fuckin' asswipe, y'know?! I'm never gonna just _let_ some friggin' dumbass talk about stickin' it in my partner that I'm supposed to be working with. I wasn't raised like that. _My Ma would roll in her GRAVE if she ever found out that I wasn't sticking up for a lady like y-"_

He cut his own sentence short, closing his mouth as his tongue had apparently slipped.

 _"Fuck,"_ he muttered quietly, and took a breath right after.

"... I killed him cause he was being an asshole. And I don't like assholes. _There._ Happy? You finally know why I killed him, and thank God that's off my chest cause I thought I was gonna have a friggin' heart attack."

He breathed deeply and relaxed back into his seat.

"... and I didn't _mean_ to kill him. I just..." he let out one last sigh as he didn't bother to finish the sentence.

After Jeremy was done with what he had to say, Lena put the car to a complete stop and pulled over to the right. She looked at him and began to speak.

"Scout, you can't be killing innocents like that when you're around me... y-you shouldn't even be _doing_ that in the first place. I don't care of the reasons you had for it. I don't care that he made vulgar comments towards me- _I don't care,"_ she repeated, "you think I'm innocent to dirty and lurid remarks from men, but I'm _not._ And I don't need you to be the White-Knight for me because I can handle myself-"

"Yeah but-"

"Let me finish." She said.

He remained silent.

"Thank you. Like I said — There's no reason to stick up for me. _Especially_ when you're going to resort to fatal attacks that ultimately just makes us look worse in the public's eyes. _It's not right, Scout._ This is not how Overwatch handles a minimal threat. _Murder_ is definitely a stain that can never be washed from a hand, and I'm aware that you come from a different side of rules, _but when working with us, you have to do your best to be on good behaviour, and if not, then at least try." _Lena took a deep breath and stared back at the road. She moved her hands back up to the steering wheel.

"Do you understand?" She asked.

"Yeah." Jeremy answered.

She nodded and continued to drive forward across the long bridge.

 _ **x** _

Lena was still worried and anxious about the dead body Jeremy had left behind on the entrance to the bridges long road. She felt as if it was her fault that the man was dead. And despite the sexual comments he made towards her, she could tell that he wasn't in the right mind, and she believed that people under the influence didn't deserve to be punished so harshly.

 _'I should've just kept driving. I should've just risked him breaking a leg. After all, he's fast enough. One less leg wouldn't hurt him too much, right?'_ Her conscience asked her.

She exhaled out of her nose and looked at Jeremy quickly before setting her eyes back on the road.

 _"So..._ we're almost there," she said out of the blue.

"Yeah. I can see two people just ahead on those lookouts." He replied.

She squinted her eyes and could barely make out the 2 figures. Nonetheless, she still saw them. They were still a good distance away from the lookouts, so she slowed down the car and began talking to him. She didn't tell him (how could he tell him?), but she actually felt a _little_ relieved that he had a reason to kill someone instead of having no reason at all. This told her something about him. _Maybe,_ he wasn't a complete psychopath that killed for fun...

 _Maybe._

Maybe his reasoning was just _horribly_ unjustified. But at least he had good intentions behind it. He was sticking up for her, which surprised her in its own right that he would even consider doing that despite how much he disliked her. This gave her some hope about him not being a mindless murderer. He actually had a little bit of _feelings_ behind that criminal overlay of his, no matter how bad it was.

She began to speak with him, now that she had a little more confidence and insight on him.

"Scout?"

"Hm?"

"I apologize if this strikes a deep topic, but... you mentioned earlier that your Mother would roll in her grave if she found out that you weren't sticking up for a lady like me..." she tried to hide her smile, but it crept through easily, _"what was that supposed to mean?"_

She knew that from reading that note that was in his bag almost 2 nights ago, his Mother _was_ dead. She died from lung cancer; the affects of periodic smoking, and he wasn't ready to go through the trauma of losing his only parent. The only reason she was asking this question is because of the one specific sentence she read in that note that had a strong indication she had for him to find that 'someone'... or his 'Sunshine', as his Mother wrote it down.

 _"Find a woman that you want to spend your entire life with... someone you can call your 'Sunshine'..."_

She didn't know why this line stuck with her so much. It irritated her to even _think_ of him calling her his 'Sunshine'.

Was she only asking this question to see if there was any chance of him considering her to be 'that' woman? Funny. She didn't even fully know herself that well to ask, or answer her own question.

Jeremy stopped tapping on the side door. He went silent and still for a couple of seconds. He was so silent that she had thought that the question was _too_ personal, but eventually, he answered her.

"You weren't supposed to hear that, Tracer. Slip of my mouth, but..." he shrugged, "may as well tell you..." He felt a lump in his throat as he got ready to mention his dead Mother, all the while thinking about if she even deserved to know anything about her.

He didn't know. It was too late to back out now.

"When I said that 'My Ma would be rolling in her grave', it meant that she's dead. And she'd be pissed off at me for not sticking up for you."

She blinked and didn't know how to respond for a couple seconds. _This,_ was his reasoning for sticking up for her. His motive was his mother — His dead mother, and from reading that note in his bag, she knew he loved very much. Could his action still be justified?

She didn't know how to answer that.

 _"... I'm sorry about your mother."_ She said.

Jeremy didn't know how to respond. The thought of shedding tears made itself known to him, but he quickly willed it away. He wouldn't dare show vulnerability in front of Lena. Not while so close to the fortress. Not to someone who already knew how to beat him. He didn't need anymore odds stacked against him.

He cleared his throat and looked out the window, away from her.

 _"Thanks."_ He replied quietly.

Little did he know, the look-away and the quiet tone was giving her all that she needed to know about the topic of his Mother. She now knew that he was sensitive when it came to this. She had no plans of using this against him, however.

He sighed after some silence passed. He shook his head and found the strength to smile.

"Funny. I, uh... heh," he was chuckling now. "I used to have this... guess you can call 'girlfriend' back when I was a kid. Maybe around Grade 8 or something- I don't know- but I was young, right? So, I go home after school one day, and there she is, just waiting nearby the crappy swings of that shitty excuse for a playground, and I don't even get a friggin' chance to creep away, because she's already walking towards me-"

The fact that he was randomly telling her a story out of the blue gave her the confidence she needed to pull over to the side and stop the car, so that she could give full attention towards it.

"Continue. I'm listening." She said

He paused for a bit and looked as if he was about to ask her why she stopped, but he continued with his story.

He stared ahead as he remembered the moment as best as he could.

"... uh. Anyways, we talk 'n whatever, I ask her 'What's up? Why are you here? We're only supposed to hang out _during_ school,' yada, yada. Then, before I can even notice my Ma coming out the apartment doors, she starts complaining and telling me that 'Oh, you don't treat me right', 'Oh, you don't do this with me!', 'Oh, you're not even serious-', like-", he laughed out at the memory, and Lena found herself giggling as well.

 _"Oh man._ She was _crazy and weird,_ that's all I'm gonna say-"

"Wait. Was this your _first_ girlfriend, or-?"

"Yeahhh... w-well-" he shrugged, "I don't know. I think it was my second one. I hung out with a girl in Grade 4."

She rolled her eyes, "'Hanging out' with someone doesn't mean-"

"I kissed her. On the lips too." He interrupted.

 _"Oh,"_ she was baffled at how young he was introduced to romance, despite how early the stages were.

"Grade 4..." her brows dipped, "oh my days- _that must mean you were barely 10 years old!_ How were you doing such things at a young age?"

"Uhh... because I look _good?"_

She laughed because she didn't know how to respond in a way to make it seem like she wasn't crushing on him.

He faked a laugh in return.

"'Oh, _'Ha, ha, ha'._ Believe me, Tracer. My Mama ain't give me this killer face for nothing," he smirked, his teeth showing subtly in the dim interior.

She ignored the topic as she felt it slipping out of control, and moved onto another.

 _"So, I'm assuming that must've been your first kiss, then?"_

He nodded. "Yup. I regret it everyday," he cleared his throat, eager to forget about it, _"but anyways,_ back to the story-"

She interrupted him, "Wait, wait. Hold on there, luv'. You can't just move on from that. You simply must tell me what went wrong during your first experience."

 _"What?_ I don't need to tell you crap."

"But you brought it up."

 _"Huh?_ No. _You_ brought it up."

That was it. She was out of witty responses.

"Well... Does it matter?" She asked.

"No. It doesn't matter, cause you don't need to know. It's-" he rolled his eyes, _"... it's embarrassing, alright?"_

"I won't laugh."

He raised a brow and looked at her with a side glance.

 _"I promise I won't laugh."_ She said with a straight face.

After some seconds, he chuckled to himself, "Yeah yeah yeah, _that's a load of crap,"_ he sighed and looked forward as he reminisced on his first kiss. He looked at her again and could see that she was still looking back at him, face as straight as could be.

But did he believe her? Was she _really_ not going to laugh at this embarrassing story?

Jeremy shook his head and rubbed his temples

"Fine. But I can't give you the whole spill 'bout my crazy ex if I tell ya about this one, Tracer."

"That's fine. You can tell me about her another time."

"Wha-? No. I meant, that, like- _that's all you're gonna hear._ No more stories after that cause this one's counting for two." He said.

 _"Aw._ Where's the fun in that?"

"It ain't supposed to be fun-" he saw her hide a little smile as she looked to the side for a second. "'Hey. I thought you said you ain't gonna laugh."

She looked back towards him with a straight face, "I did. And I won't laugh." She repeated.

"... alright," he shrugged and began to tell her about his embarrassing first kiss.

"I guess I should tell you about how I even got dragged into that crap. It all started when-"

Suddenly, a spotlight from ahead turned on. It was hanging on a bar that was suspended above the main road, and to the sides of it were another pair of spotlights, pouring light down upon the idle vehicle.

Both Lena and Jeremy looked at the lights, then at each other.

"I bet you that's the lookouts." He muttered.

"Who else would it be?" She replied. She put her hands on the steering wheel and slowly began to drive forward. "Guess you'll have to tell me that story another time then."

He shrugged as his mind was on anything but the story he was going to tell, "Probably gonna forget about it, but whatever." His eyes were locked on the two figures ahead. There were two small towers that had stairs leading to the platform. The edges were covered with sandbags, and had men standing guard on it.

Lena squinted her eyes to see a small flag pole that bared the flag of the United States, hanging along the side of the sandbags. Jeremy noticed it as well.

 _"... Play it cool."_ He whispered to Lena, eyeing the men atop the lookout posts.

One of them waved at the vehicle, "Howdy' doo over there Mister and Miss!"

His accent had a southern drawl to it, and on his forearm was a very visible tattoo of the American flag. On his short-sleeved vest was a small coloured patch that contained Stars and Stripes of red, blue and white. On his belly was another tattoo that read _'TX, Alabama'._

"Okay, Scout. Hopefully my accent doesn't throw them off, and _hopefully_ your knowledge of the U.S. gets us through this." Lena said, eyeing the American that was walking towards her vehicle with a warm smile.

 _"Yeah... and hopefully you don't say anything stupid that'll get us busted."_ He muttered back.

 ** _X_**


End file.
